maybe it was a fit of nostalgia
or the way the light reflected off the glass
but I swore in passing
I saw you
and for a split second
my heart stopped
whether out of fear or joy
I cannot say
however
at second glance
it was a stranger
so perhaps it was you after all
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
The trees look sad and wilted over.
Broken and mangled.
Awkward and bent. Droopy and still.
Some try to stand tall, others fall.
The weight is too great to bare for some and pieces crack, brake and fall off around them like flowers placed around a grave, forever encased in a sparkly crystal coffin.
When the weak ones fall, with anger they drag down the other trees, shrubs and branches and leave a path of destruction around and behind them.
The rest of the trees pitty the poor little houses that by fate and misfortune lay in their way, being crushed under the weight of the weaker ones.
When the snow clears and the ice melts away, will they ever stand as tall as they did again?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Nobody will know until the storm has passed and settled and spring has rounded the corner.
Most will continue to bloom beautifully.
Others will remain in the misshapen, broken state that winter left them in.
Over time, prettier and stronger trees will grow around the broken and weak and cover them until they aren't noticeable anymore. Leaving the forest looking pretty; from the outside. But inside, it is hurting and crying out for mercy.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
The thought of this is too heavy.
It weighs on my brain.
It washes out my eyes.
It dances along the tight rope that is my shoulders.
It tips and sways and lingers on my finger tips and my bones and leaves space where there is damp darkness.
It drains the pink in my cheeks and replaces it with a heavy hollow.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
Sometime in the winter you'll lie to yourself and say you'll do all the things you didn't do last year. The nice thing is that you know one thing will stay consistent from year to year- you'll say the same thing next year.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
If you open up too much, people can fall in and hurt themselves.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
It is selfish to ask for one more day when you've already had so many. But what if that one extra day is extraordinary?
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
"the hardest thing to do when you go back underwater, is talk about what the sky was like."
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
The alcohol had drained out of my system but my body felt like a train had collided with it, but trust me, this wasn't a hangover. This was my eyes being to heavy to open because I knew when I woke, you wouldn't be in my line of vision. This was my lips being on fire and they craved your lips to put out the flame again. This was the knots in my hair that only your fingers running through my scalp could untangle. This was last nights make up streaming down my face but I couldn't fix it because without you to wipe away my tears, what was the point? This was the fact that I spent hours of my day on the bathroom floor because my heart was shattered, my lungs were dry and my ribs were cracked and my stomach craved to be as empty as you made the rest of me feel. This was a lot of things but this wasn't a hangover. It took the disguise of one though, much like the devil in you disguised it's self as an angel, so I'll let everyone believe it was just a bad hangover, nothing a few Advil can't fix. It's so much easier than explaining how my body gave up on me at the same time you did.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
One day, the door will be slammed one too many times and fall off its hinges.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC