Pinkthe boys gestured and jeeredMore Like This
‘what’d you do to your hair?’
‘boys won’t like you now.’
she turned away, smiling all the while
head shaved and pink scarf in place
‘because it’s too hot’
‘I want a fresh start’
‘I never liked my long hair anyways’
but at home she cries
though the tears won’t fall
because it was shave
or watch it fall out
no one comments on the lost weight
or the bags gathering under her eyes
for she hides it with pink clothes and makeup
chemo starts she throws up in school
the teachers send her home, but her parents send her back
normal is a luxury they can’t afford to lose
pink ribbons on cars
the color a badge she earns
blinds her delicate eyes
pink roses on her grave
for when she lost the battle
but never gave up on the war
Imaginary FriendsMy reflection in the mirror hates me,More Like This
and I know because she told me so.
She twists and turns and fogs the glass
bending unnaturally while moving with me
she pinches her skin and leaves blemishing marks
tearing off pieces she deems she does not need.
“Just wait,” she whispers as she bites her lip
“only so much longer and I can be free,”
her lips are bleeding again, but I’m brushing my teeth
“free to hurt and bend and break that wonderful body of yours.”
I can hear the whispers, I can hear her skin tearing.
She reaches up and touches the glass
and it bends under the brushing of skin
I finally speak with a tilt of the head
“Imaginary friends shouldn't be able to do that.”
2p!RussiaXReader ~Request~ Anastasia2p!RussiaXReaderMore Like This
“Amazing.” The Russian of few words muttered, from the chair in the dark corner he rested in. His elbow perched on the sidearm of the leather recliner, resting his cheek on his clenched fist. He knew he was staring to long, and gingerly brushed his dark brown hair away from his longing ruby eyes.
“Give it back!” you yelled at the American know as Alexander or Al for short. “You’re so immature, Al!”
He might have been immature, that was true. But he was your brother and you lived with him. Even if the red-eyed brunette got on your ever-loving-last nerve, you still cared about him. Although at the moment, you could have grabbed his nail encrusted baseball bat, and smashed him upside the head.
“Pfft…” he rolled his eyes. Using his free hand, that wasn’t dangling the object that you wanted above your head; to push his dark tinted sunglasses up his nose that had started to slide down. “I
Red DressDon’t put on your red dressMore Like This
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.
The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress
Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.
A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.
Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn’t care for the meaning.
Put it away in the closet, and rarely wear
for he doesn’t deserve your dear red dress.
Death Takes Two SugarsDeath knocked on the doorMore Like This
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.
He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.
He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.
The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.
The tale of the man who was meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.
Death pushed in his chair and declared,
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.
‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
Tea with the RabbitTea with the rabbit todayMore Like This
just the same as every day,
every single day and every single night.
And when he danced and sang
I could not join in merriment
for the ropes that bound did not budge
He would scream and cry while sipping tea,
and I would laugh while hiding tears.
He said he was late,
for what I know naught,
but he did not leave my nightmare.
“The Queen of Hearts is evil!”
And I agreed blindly. Yet I could not help
but wonder if she was really the evil one.
Dormouse, his friend of valiant honor,
rammed his sword into my thigh
and grinned when I wept and bled.
And my one and only friend sat across,
sipping his tea without a care, mumbling nonsense.
The giant hat upon his head outweighed his judgement.
Tea was scalding as it poured down my throat,
he didn't care as his feet thumped down
pleas to stop fell on deaf cottontail ears.
And when the cry of ‘off with her head!’ sounded
I couldn’t help but be relived and yet I still cried.