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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 am only broken when i cry.
if i could hand you my heart, i would; you would never trust me with yours.
you think you can shape broken things and the broken people - people like me. you think we are like clay and you can make us into what you want. you think there's a mold that we will one day confine to; give in to. you believe you can
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 world i would never know; never understand.
today, i told you how i feel like i'm in a world in which i don't belong; don't understand. i showed you my planets and the stick figure.
you smiled and drew a stick figure of your own. you said, 'this one will be me. and we can both just notbelong here. together.'
(but notbelonging with you fee
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.
last night i wrote 'i wish you were here' on a piece of paper, but i'm not sure who the you was. maybe it was everyone.
last night i cleaned my room just to mess it up again, mostly because i like messing things up. maybe this is some strange revenge on the world for messing me up. i'm not sure.
last night i tried to write but it only ended up
pieces of glass.i've watched the angels
in your heart burn
their halos and rip out
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
artificial lights in human minds
flicker and dim out,
and nothing is left
to chase away the shadows
lingering in corners;
i've watched them push
you down, give you bloody kneecaps
and force the fight out of you,
force you to give up.
[but i've seen you wipe the tears
from your eyes. i've seen you
find your strength back. i've
stand back up.]
already gone.mommy used to put me to sleep with horror stories.
'boys don't have hearts,' she'd say, shaking her finger in my face. 'if something doesn't have a heart, it can't fall in love with you. remember that,
remember that before you fall in love with one.'
and i don't know what scares me more -
the memories of her horror stories, or the fact that this boy has a heart.
'you'll feel better tomorrow morning,' she tells me. 'i promise.'
lights are swirling in the background, forming shapes. there's a heart made of an icy blue, i notice, and raindrops made of black. 'what am i supposed to feel bad about in the first place?' i ask after a moment.
'you'll see,' she tells me, sadness on her tongue. she turns to leave, dress swirling in the dim lights.
'wait!' i call out, and she turns around. 'who are you?'
'someone you'll know, someday,' she says cryptically.
there's a beating growing in the background now, getting faster as time passes. it reminds me of a time bomb. five minutes
my goodbye.i used to see your face when i closed my eyes.
sometimes, i saw you in the faces of others, too. a glance or a smile. a few flickering seconds, and i was reminded of you, and it was like you'd never left. never turned cold and left on a journey meant only for you.
dad said you used to smell like hopes and dreams, but i guess they broke. grandmother says you smelled of self-hatred and i wish i didn't understand. she says she saw this coming, she saw this coming, and i wonder why she didn't stop it.
and then i think, well, maybe she couldn't.
i don't have many memories of you. this makes me sad. dad tells stories about when you were little, and i forget those, too. mostly i just remember you as cigarette ashes and alcohol bottles, and i'm sorry. i'm sorry i remember you that way. i'm sorry.
i'm not very good at remembering people.
i'm not very good at seeing the best in people, either.
sometimes, i wonder if you miss us. i know they miss you, even if they're busy throwing curses at each
i was knocking at your door. it was
freezing cold, and the ice-rain got inside
my heart, and i was screaming please,
please, let me in. and i was knocking
at your door until my voice was
gone and my knuckles were bleeding
and you never even heard me.
apparently you are a different person now. apparently you have new friends to laugh with; joke with; cry with; tell secrets to.
apparently i'm not one of those friends anymore, and this breaks my heart - not that i'd ever tell you this. apparently we are no longer major parts of each other's life anymore, although we promised each other we'd never drift apart.
i wonder if the continents told themselves that, too.
i put a stethoscope over your heart
and all i heard was static and the sounds
if you can't even be honest with me, who can you be honest with?
maybe no one. maybe i'm a liar, just like you say. maybe i'm no good and maybe i'm screwed and maybe this is fate; maybe it is my destiny to
shadows.i love studying your face under dim lights.
it's the shadows - i love how they dance on your face; the way they bring out your cheekbones, make your eyes glow.
and i love the way you always get frustrated; you say it's too dark to see, and you turn the lights back on.
the light always destroys the shadows.
(i'll tell you a secret.
sometimes, i wish you didn't.)
i've been having the same dream lately.
in it, i have a sword and i'm in armor. my clumsiness is gone, somehow, replaced by bravery i don't possess. i'm fighting a black knight, and he tells me that he 'fights for evil.'
'i know', i tell him. 'and this is why i fight you.'
except last night, my dream changed. and this morning, i woke up screaming.
because the roles were reversed. because i was the evil.
i learned something today.
everyone has different views of 'good' and 'evil'. i learned that someone's view of 'good' always wins, in the end. but it's not always for the best.
so maybe my dream was fitting.
because in the
plastic roses.i. our love was a rose, and
sometimes, i wished it was
do not have thorns.)
ii. i'd like the fireflies to
stay in my life. at least
they could light my way through the
(they'd be much better
friends than you ever were.)
iii. we once said
that we were each other's
but i am not
losing my halo;
only you are.
(throwing knives in my back
doesn't make you an angel.)
iv. you told me that our fates
were lucky enough to cross one
(your version of
is very different from mine.)
v. my love for you
was made of hope and fragile
dreams and it was
(you never thought
it was worth enough
to be considered
vi. you told me i was
like your special brand of
(but chocolate always made you
vii. your nicknames for me (sweetheart;
mi amor) and claims of love
always seemed to burn
your lips, as if they were
(did it ever hurt you
viii. i was such a fool
for searching for things
in your heart that
feel like flying.i used to
look at the pretty
how it felt to fly
it was only
her.he told her:
i like how you put your hands on your waist
and tip your hips
to accentuate the precious curve of your back
and say 'come to bed.'
i like how you walk up the stairs
on the tips of your toes
like you're prepared to take off in flight
but possibly never come back
i like how you believe in luck
and running between the raindrops
and leaping through open doorways
and singing to the flowers
i like how you brush your hair
in the dim lit morning
and tell me of all your
last-night whimsical dreams
i like how you bite your cherry lips
and your fingernails and tongue
and how you sit with knees crossed
and bare foot bobbing up and down
but i love you the most
when you keep coming back
to tell me that you like
how i look at you
of storms and skysee my hair dance wild as wind-strings jerk it about//hear the ocean-wind heave itself against us all- crashing into our eyes and mouth//feel the winter-wind brush our skins in summer//then inhale the heaviness of air and sink through the dirt- because darling, you dont deserve gods beautiful violence.
(it drags the tree by its leaves saying kiss your trunk, kiss it and it does; releasing with a snap. the other trees flitter-flutter violently, crying within the cacophony of rain on concrete. white stars fall where light exists, and only sound where it disappears. the sky -the colour of sunburnt skin- watches it all with hunger. and then a moment we are swallowed. gumtrees, rain, earth; we are all night sky now. but our eyes open and the rain is no more, dew on grass. and the wind is no more, only breath.)
lightning storm."did you feel that?" you murmured,
sending goosebumps crawling down
my skin. "feel what?" but i knew
exactly what you meant.
the shock; the current
"i'm scared of lightning."
"you're crazy," you laughed. i love your
laugh. "no i'm not, i'm just happy; free."
i danced barefoot in the grass, arms
stretched out and feeling the warmth
of the sun
one more time.
"will you teach me? i don't think i know
how to be free," your smile faltered just
a little bit.
and so little by little i taught you how to be
free, how to live. and i saw you smile
more and more.
"can you keep a secret?" you didn't need
to ask; you already knew my answer. "of
course." you looked at me with your sincere
green eyes that i so often got lost in.
"i love you. more th
Let's Just Be Us1.
I don't like the word "fall"
in association with the word "love,"
because it leaves too much room
for scraped knees and bruised egos,
for broken bones and fractured hearts.
[I don't like the word "fall,"
but I have transformed into Autumn in your arms.]
I've changed my mind. I am no longer a season-
they never stay for long,
and no one ever wants the one they have.
Can I be a tattoo, instead?
That way, you could remove me if you wanted,
but you never would,
because it would hurt too much.
Nevermind. Tattoos get covered up.
I don't want you to have to hide me.
[And I don't want to stick around if you don't want me.]
How about penguins?
I heard that they mate for life.
You've always known I'm indecisive.
I did some research, and did you know that after the female penguin gives birth,
she leaves the male with the egg
for two entire months?
[I don't think I could leave you.]
So can we maybe just be people?
[Let's just be us,
and let's just be in love.]
like you're still around.pretty new starts
in pretty new places;
followed by ugly hearts
with ugly faces.
Control.Even without teeth we'll find ways to bite
Soak up our water; we'll burn you alive
Religionless minds find hate to praise
And God-loving men have a Father to blame
Put out our fire; you'll smother to death
Burn out our feathers and we'll crush your chest
Abolish disease and cancer of the brain
Someone will find a way to kill you again
You say put up your hands and I say never
Make excuses, excuses
And we'll never get better
finding the bottomYou can't look in your own eyes. You wake up at night and wonder why not, and then come to a decision - you wouldn't be able to bear the sight of all the emptiness inside.
(But that's okay, because no one else can either.)
You try to drown out your emotions with music. You put on your headphones and try to forget about everything. It never works, so you give up and sing to someone else's song.
(but the words are all wrong)
You buy all the dead roses and place them into a broken vase, so you can feel more at home.
(You're tired of feeling like the only rotting and broken thing.)
You're the one whos love letters are folded and placed under an uneven table leg to keep him steady with his numbers.
(But the only thing you ever notice are his beautiful pale eyes.)
You hate all the romance movies. You prefer ones like Saw. You were never scared of the violence and gore.
(The reason why is because you secretly find them easier to believe.)
You've stated a million times you
tragedies - collab.you deserve all the cobweb dreams,
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.
you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.
it's not like you'd read them,
i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'
when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'
so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless dreams. you said 'no,
i don't need this. you're
tragedy enough for me.'
by the time i was humming you
melancholy lullabies through the receiver,
you had already surrendered
to the sweet grasps of sleep.
'i'd rather nightmares than you,'
you said, hanging up the phone.
i kept singing anyway, hoping
that you would stop running
long enough for me to catch up.
but i forgot -
voices.are you listening?
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
but see that guy over there?
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,
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 dream, a hope, a
something meant only
for the lucky, until
depression fills my lungs, and
i need a new source of oxygen, and
i can't breathe.
tell me it'll be
alright. please. just lie
it'll be alright.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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