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last night.last night the electricity went out in my neighborhood.

last night i lit some candles and burnt my fingers in the process. i watched the flames flicker in the dark and i stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered why it looked different, somehow.

last night i remembered how sometimes, when i touch people, i shock them with static electricity. and i wondered if this has any significance.

last night i reread your letters and counted them. nine. there used to be ten, but i threw one away when we had that fight, remember? and i spent the next day looking unsuccessfully in the trash for it and wishing i could control my temper.
worlds.today, i scribbled planets on a piece of paper and gave them names. 'friendship', 'acceptance', 'hope', 'love', and 'happiness', i called them.

then i drew a stick figure that i named 'alyssa'. i wrote a story about how she visited all of these planets and learned all about them.

(now, i can pretend to know these things. now, i can pretend to be a part of them.)

.

today, as i was on my way home, i saw a couple in the grass by the highway. they were dancing to music i couldn't hear.

for a moment, i thougth they were crazy. but a few minutes later, i felt like mourning.

because these people and their somewhat crazy actions were part of a
crashing.'think of yourself as a breath of air,' he tells me. 'compared to the overall atmosphere, you are tiny. insignificant.'

'but someone out there is breathing you in,' he continues. 'they're living off of you. you are the oxygen in their lungs, running through their veins and keeping them alive.'

i think that i'd be the polluted kind of air. the kind nobody wants. the kind that ends up killing people.

but i keep these thoughts inside.

.

'if i fell, would you catch me?' i ask, your fingers cold in mine.

'the crash is never as bad as they make it sound,' he says cryptically.

i take this to mean no.

.

'what do i remind you of?' you ask.

i
insomnia.one a.m.

i couldn't sleep. i was too busy tossing and turning and throwing my pillow at the shadows dancing in my room.

i tried counting sheep, but somehow, one became two became three became fifty became purple became what the hell is wrong with me?

two a.m.

i glanced at my phone and thought about calling you. and then i realized that you're never the one to call me, and that stung, and i decided to count the stains on my ceiling instead.

some idiot set his car alarm off, and the other cars answered, forming an odd sort of melody.

i wanted to answer with a scream of my own, but i forced it to stay in.

three a.m.

sleep was calling my
car drives.one.

sometimes, when we're driving
along the freeway, i wish
we could just

stop

and sit there, watching
life and cars
pass us by.

-

two.

and if we screamed
our lungs out,
would anyone even
hear us?

-

three.

and then, with scratchy voices
and sore lungs, we could drive
to the edge of a cliff
and wonder if maybe
life is like this cliff,
and sometimes,
you have to just
take a chance and

jump

and you find out later
there's ground, and sometimes
a trampoline
at the bottom,
and suddenly -

suddenly,
you're
flying.

-

four.

or maybe life is
more like a roller coaster, and adrenaline
is rush rush rushing,
and we'
voices.are you listening?

one.

the trains are
burning. planes are
crashing, and i can only hope
they're not yours.

tides are coming in,
breaking the shore, carrying
the ground beneath you
away, away with them,
and we can only

watch.

but see that guy over there?
he's laughing.

-

two.

there are voices
inside my head, pulling
at the roots of my hair and
banging on the walls,
begging me, screaming at me:
'please, let me out',
'please hear me, hear me,
hear me.'

-

three.

until they're all i can hear,
until i want to give in and
give up, and they've won, they've
won, until i feel like the ability

to live life fully is a drea
black holes and maps.i will pretend
i do not fall asleep
thinking of you

if you pretend
not to know.

x

i wish i knew
how to tell you
exactly how i feel about
you.

it's like
you're a black hole
and you pull me in

and all i can do
is try not to lose myself
completely.

x

dear self:

please do not confuse
falling
for him with
flying.

x

we are not a
rollercoaster, so please
stop saying this relationship
is one.

[haven't you heard that
rollercoasters have ups
as well as
downs?]

x

x marks the spot,
sweetheart;

this is a map,
and if you follow it
you'll find my heart.

[except,
you don't really care
enough to look.]
tomorrow.i used to hold you close in the hopes that you'd keep me warm.

it worked physically, but my heart always felt colder; heavier afterwards.

you never liked to hold me, anyway.

-

you and i are not the same.

you like it when the rain falls, and you like being startled when its peace is interrupted by thunder. you like trying to catch the rain in a bucket; you try to 'save' it from colliding with the ground.

i only like to watch it fall.

you are beautiful when you cry; when your body shakes uncontrollably with sobs you can't hold in. you are open when you cry, and i can see past the marble mask you put up and i feel like i know you.

but i
nuclear wars of the heart.this is how
nuclear wars of the heart
get started.

fireworks are really
just another kind of
explosion, did you
know that?

[you are causing
fireworks
to implode within
my heart.]

there is a
crack
in me;
a fault line
among which
you like to cause
earthquakes
that shake my whole
being.

[but this crack
is only getting wider.
could you please fill it up
with cement
made of
hopes and dreams?]

you could
breakme -
did you know that?

but you could also
healme,
fixme,
changeme.

[all you have to do
is
loveme.]
snapshots of dreams.i. despair.

i think my hope is trapped within the sun’s rays, and it falls out of reach, into unfamiliar hands.
despair is left to shadow my footsteps, following me home.
the door’s lock snicks shut, but sorrow still worms its way into my core, bringing up old memories.

my hope is stolen again.

[and with the disappearance of another second off the clock, we are pushed farther apart.]

iii. fear.

Can you hear the airplanes crashing; stars falling into black holes to be forgotten?
Soon, too, the rainbows will give up on us and disappear, never to be seen again.

I’m afraid the angels will one day scream, throw down their h
pieces of glass.i've watched the angels
in your heart burn
their halos and rip out
their wings;

shards of glass lodge
themselves in skin until
there's no hope of ever
pulling them out, until
they're a part of you;

the cold in the air
sink into me, until
sorrow is the only feeling
left in my bones;

people tear themselves apart,
and all that's left is
a pile of suffocating tears
and bloody fingernails
and broken hopes and dreams;

fairytale books erase their endings,
rewrite a tragedy
worthy of
shakespeare;

artificial lights in human minds
flicker and dim out,
and nothing is left
to chase away the shadows
lingering in corners;

i've w
letters.dear amber:

instead of having pillow fights,
we'll have marshmallow fights -
or try to, because
we'll end up eating all the ammo.

.

dear amber:

the melodies you play
on your flute are beautiful,
i'm sure, but
they could never be as beautiful
as your heart.

.

dear amber:

if i could heal all your wounds
and erase all your scars,
i would.
but all i have
is this pikachu band-aide.

.

dear amber:

if you're ever feeling down,
we could play games of
checkers, and you would always win
and i'd tell you embarassing stories
and secrets about myself,
just to make you smile.
snowflakes.in july, i cut out paper snowflakes and colored them rainbow, then taped them to the inside of my window.

"what's with the snowflakes?" you asked, confused, when you noticed them.

"i like snowflakes," i replied simply.

"but it's july. it never snows in july, so why put snowflakes up?" you asked, still puzzled.

i said, "because if a miracle happens and it does snow, the inside will match the outside for once."

you asked, after a moment's pause, "why color them rainbow?"

"because not everything is black and white."

but you never understood. later, you tore them down, and i caught you feeding them to a candle's flames.

---

it was foggy
circles in the sand.you will be drawing circles in the sand when he finds you.

'why are you bothering to draw in the sand?' he'll ask. 'the waves will only wash your circles away.'

you'll finish the circle by writing love in the center, then you'll stand up to answer him, hair in your eyes from the wind and sand on your face.

'because maybe it won't get washed away,' you'll say. 'isn't it a chance worth taking?'

and instead of laughing at you like you expected, he'll smile. 'yes,' he'll say. 'oh, yes.'

--

you will be weak with lack of sleep, drowsy and stumbling, and he'll catch you before you run into the wall.

'go away,' you'll tell him. 'just go away.'
late night secrets.i. have you ever been so hungry that, when food is finally ready and it's burning hot, you're not willing to wait?

because i want to love someone like this. love someone so much it doesn't matter if i get burned. love someone so much that it just. can't. wait.

i want to love someone so much that i'm not afraid anymore. not afraid of the consequences, of getting hurt, or of losing myself. i want to love someone so much that it's consuming and i can do nothing but love, love, love.

ii.  sometimes, i wish i didn't have so many shots at a decent future. sometimes, i wish the only future i could ever have would be in writing. maybe th
Browse More Like This

More from ~Amertie

and i'll be the painter.your skin is feather
white, and i imagine

littering your face
with half-moon marks;
i imagine

the noises you'd make,
like a chalkboard,
darling,

and i'm going to be the nails.

your screams
will be thunder,
a train screeching to a

stop.

i imagine
your eyes
are full of our dreams,

and i'll bring the nightmares
to the surface;

your skin is feather-white,
darling. you are a canvas waiting

to be drenched
in blood.
soft.you said
the sky is a canvas,

and i have written
your heart
with its candles

(i love you)

and this truth
is soft, a whispered
confession, painted
in petals;

this promise
is fragile, a run
away cloud, a porcelain
child -

so please,
tread softly.
confusing stars for satellitesi dream of your arms
around me, in empty hallways
lit by nightlights like dreams, imagine that

your breath would be like raindrops, maybe,
and i'll be the river
into which they fall, and i'd catch you,
lightly, i promise

we won't make a sound,
like mice on christmas eve, tiptoe across
holly staircases, tiptoe
on lakes, dance and watch
the moonlight shadow our
reflections, dance

around my dreams, in them,
and find that i would
fax you a smile, a rainbow, a
sunny day, even
my heart -

and yes, it's yours,
but only if

you hold me.

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missing.

:iconamertie:

i remember how you found me digging through boxes in my closet one day.

'what're you looking for?' you asked.

'i'm not sure,' i replied.

you looked at me, confused. 'you don't know what you're looking for?' you asked. i only shook my head.

because i never know what's missing or what i'm looking for; only that something is lost. misplaced.

but maybe the only thing misplaced is me.

-

'what do you think of yourself?' you asked me the next day.

'what do you mean?' i replied.

'i mean,' you paused for a moment. 'how do you see yourself?'

a telephone was ringing on the t.v. in the silence that dragged on. you turned away from me, and i could tell you didn't expect me to reply.

i didn't, either, but i surprised both of us.

'well,' i said. 'maybe... maybe i'm a fish born without gills. or maybe i'm a bird that refuses to fly. maybe i'm a treasure chest, locked and full of surprises - or maybe i'm just empty.

maybe i'm like fog, confusing and mindless and almost impossible to see through. or maybe it's only impossible because no one tries to see within it. maybe i'm a raincloud, dark and waiting to drown out the world in rain and thunder.

but mostly, i think i'm a ship, lost at sea and without a lighthouse.'

you didn't reply, and the telephone rung on in the silence that followed.

-

today, i woke up to a note on my pillow. it said:

you are none of those things. all you are is alyssa - but that's better than all of those combined.

and even if you were a lost ship -

well, i'll always be willing to be your lighthouse.

2,800

155 169 33
:iconamertie:

missing.by ~Amertie

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this was going to be angsty.
but i started thinking about my friends and my insides turned to mush. and mushy insides are no good for writing angst.

:heart:
©2009-2013 ~Amertie
Category: Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction

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Submitted on
January 7, 2009
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:iconschwarrern:
~SchWarrerN Nov 13, 2011  Professional Filmographer
thanks you.
Reply
:iconyoyshaia:
~Yoyshaia Jul 7, 2010  Student Writer
Cute, I like it =]
Reply
:iconbeforeandaftermai:
~BeforeAndAfterMai Jun 11, 2010
I really like it . :D
Reply
:iconrebel-ballerina:
~rebel-ballerina Dec 21, 2009
I enjoyed this alot. It was not all mushy and cliche as I first expected it to be. Very moving.
Reply
:iconvashra:
~Vashra Nov 7, 2009
It's a decent little bit of literature. I have to admit, however, that the capitalization (or lack thereof) and punctuation made my eyes bleed just a little.
Reply
:iconhidedont-seek:
~hidedont-seek Jun 23, 2009  Student Writer
aww, I love the ending! it's so sweet! :heart:
Reply
:iconamertie:
~Amertie Jun 23, 2009
thanks. =]
Reply
:icontoffeetree:
~toffeetree May 22, 2009
i was really scared she wasn't going to answer him.
that was the turning point, i think. it made everything better.
i really liked it :D
Reply
:iconamertie:
~Amertie May 23, 2009
:hug:
Reply
:iconazrael-leos:
~Azrael-Leos Feb 15, 2009
Aw, I love it.
Reply
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