Forgetting is the hardest
part of losing you -
but I’ll continue to jump rivers and
climb mountains for a chance
to see you again
and engulf my world
with your tilted grin.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
I found Fear on a street corner
with his hands stuck in his pockets
and a whistle between his teeth.
We waited for the light to switch,
for the two of us to go our separate ways
and never meet again, that is until one of us mourns the other.
But as we stood there I clicked my jaw back into place
And nodded up at the large red hand holding us in place.
“This thing’ll never change, will it?” I offered informal banter,
yet Fear turned his shoulder to me and continued
the shrill notes between his two front teeth.
After a moment Fear craned his neck,
the whistling stopped.
“I don’t talk to strangers,” he replied quickly
and returned his gaze to the street light above. I shuffled
my feet and pondered
about stepping into traffic
letting the cars sweep me into the air and take me far away from here.
I had one foot on the dark pavement –
“I wouldn’t do that,” his voice came through the whistling
but the sound never ceased. He didn’t
turn, but through the back of his head I could feel his eyes on me,
tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
“Getting run over hurts –
getting run over by ten cars hurts worse,” he said.
I stood in silence but didn’t move my foot from the pavement.
“For someone who doesn’t talk to strangers,
you have a lot of life advice,” I huffed and brought my foot back to the sidewalk.
Fear’s shoulders tensed, his hoodie scrunched, the cowl brought up over his head.
In one quick movement, he moved on the ball of his foot to face me,
but only his silhouette came through the shadowed fabric
And he said to me,
“why else would I be here?”
As if he were some sort of god sent
down to protect me?
To keep me from stepping into traffic and–
“You have a lot of nerve -,”
but he was gone and the light had turned, a brisk person in place
instead of the hand.
My neck cracked as I searched for him but
Fear was gone.
And I was left alone with three seconds on the timer before I’d be frozen
in place again with only one foot ahead or behind.
So, I shuffled across the street toward
a destination unknown, and found myself
at the mercy of my own actions.
I never saw Fear again.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 7:40 PM UTC
Even in the harrowing hours of the night,
the witching hour, you may say
I stand in an open field in nothing more than a scarf and hat
awaiting the world to come crashing down with fire in her hands.
My ******* perk from hiding,
a warm and loving embrace from the cool winter air,
and the hair on the back of my neck raises with intent on reaching the sky,
I stare forward at the midnight black - awake and so full of stars.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
Do you
see
me?
Sitting alone
in
the
dark.
My breath
hitched
and
frozen.
Throat closed
unable
to
breathe.
Eyes quivering
against
rabid
thoughts.
Hands shaking
from
irrational
beliefs.
Muscles tight
fearful
of
death.
Eyebrows furrowed
from
incomprehensible
mumblings.
Nightmares exposed.
Do you
see
me?
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
I’m dead
But at the same time
I’m not.
This anxiety
Panic
PTSD
Has taken over my life for the worst.
I can’t seem to escape it no matter
How had I try.
So now I sit here
In my 12x18 room
And think
About how my life used to be.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
Those red lips,
forged by MAC
are but only one color
in the endless stream of
existing shades.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
When I went to the park today
I heard the birds singing
and the water moving-
ever so softly against the wind.
The squirrels,
their erratic tails and fur
bounded across trees and
ate nuts as they stared
at the funny looking squirrels below them.
The ones with the shorts and the shirts on,
and the ones with the long hair colored so strangely.
Those squirrels didn’t quite look like squirrels at all.
They drove strange boats and paddled in the water,
and a couple of those strange squirrels
seemed to have large furry companions
that definitely didn’t look like squirrels.
And yet whenever they come near
they act like they know the squirrels
they take photos and videos
and make memes, funny pictures
and snapchat videos of them.
But they aren’t.
They aren’t squirrels at all.
They’re humans,
yet some think they are squirrels.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Why are we so
Obsessed,
with the liquid paint
that we slather on our
faces-
morning after morning?
We stroll the isles of
Fifty shades of Nudes
to find the shade
that makes us look like
Painted glass
Porcelain dolls,
and Fake.
Why?
Why are we so obsessed with
Maybelline and
Covergirl and
Elf?
The brands that contour
our faces
and create an illusion
a canvas
Over-painted by
Overpriced
Chemicals.
Beauty costs
Money.
Youth.
Clear skin.
But it brings this sense of
false hope that
maybe-
we can accept ourselves
after we put on this paint
and call it beauty.
We see Photoshop,
the blurred lines,
the perfect wing,
and the rosy shade of blush
that seems perfectly
Fake.
Too perfect to be real
Too perfect to be real.
And yet we strive,
for this unattainable beauty.
The **** we see on
Facebook
YouTube
Instagram
drives us crazy
because no matter how hard we try
no matter how much we waste
we can’t seem to get that
contour right
and that wing sharp
and that mascara clump-less
and that lipstick perfect.
And even though
we cannot seem to get it right,
we buy
we strive
to be the perfect shade of perfection.
Because we’re obsessed.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
Does that moon,
the one that casts a faint glow against my side of the Earth
know that it exists?
As I look into the eyes of that large rock in the sky,
I wonder if it knows I exist.
Does it know that I look up at it at night,
that I stare and write poetry about it,
that I wonder about it’s own conscious?
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
Once upon a time
a long time ago
in a land far away
there lived a princess,
a damsel in distress;
with a hope
that one day
her life would be made whole
with a kiss from a prince.
A prince,
a hero of sorts.
He’s fought dragons and
monsters and
thieves.
He defended his kingdom
with all his might
with the hope
that his life would be made whole
with a perfect
damsel in distress.
At the center of the tower,
the one in which the princess lives
is a man,
of an unfortunate, horrible
evil.
And just like the princess,
and the prince,
the antagonist, the
king
is just as cliché as the rest
with a hope
That he will rule the kingdom.
The one guarding the girl,
the damsel in distress,
is the monster -
the dragon,
the one from childhood stories.
He shoots fire from his mouth
the color of blood
and he defends
the princess with all his might,
with a hope that one day
he’ll taste the prince’s blood.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC