sometimes i wish it would snow inside my head
but i only get hailstorms
a vibrant battering of constant thoughts
stinging upon contact
sometimes i wish it would snow inside my head
but i only get lightning
flashes of bright
they tempt me to find joy until they leave once again
sometimes i wish it would snow inside my head
but i only get forest fires
so destructive and unpredictable
even the maker cannot be fully prepared
sometimes i wish it would snow inside my head
snow muffles
snow is a bandaid
snow is soft
snow is peaceful
snow is not me
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
be kind to her
i said to myself, about me.
treat her well
i said to myself, about me.
hold her hand
i said to myself, about me.
forgive her
i said to myself, about me.
remind her that she's strong even when she doesn't feel that way
i said to myself, about me.
tell her you know how it feels
i said to myself, about me.
be gentle
i said to myself, about me.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
you scooped out my insides
scraped down the sides
carved out the edges
you were thorough
you gave me a face
one i did not want
you shaped my expression
and i had no say
i felt my face turn
as a frown formed
once you were done scooping and shaping
you put torches in me
you lit them on fire
and you left them to burn
i was messy parts and melting wax
but i was fine.
i could be fixed
there were more seasons left for me
to have different faces
and to feel less empty
but you also scooped out my power
my autonomy
and at the beginning of each new season
i still feel the messy parts
and melting wax
welling up inside
**** you.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:34 AM UTC
I told him a bedtime story tonight
stood over him as he thrashed
mad in the throes of far away passion
wild in the warm embrace of jack and coke
he needed a happy story
so I told him one
about two beautiful princes
who fell in love
and saved the world
what were their names?
I told him their names
and he fell asleep, lost in dreams of a world
where two princes in love
would be a completely normal thing
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
the sky in california is a different shade of blue
the sort that whispers in your ear
and tells you to rest
the sort of sky that beckons you
to sleep
the marijuana breeze a blanket over your body
the sky speaks to us all
to the crack addled maniac wailing in the riverbed
to the almond growers laughing in the fields
to the housewives caking their faces to cover bruises left by their lovers
to the ******* kids speeding on the freeways
in early autumn when the heat makes children cry
and the forests fall to fire and wind
the sky tells you to close your eyes
and wait
in winter when the sky is more gray than blue
and the ocean thrashes with wild anxiety
the sky tells you to wait
and in the spring when the rains finally come
and the hills burst with green
the sky tells you to wait
but in the summer when the sun never goes down
and the roller rink never closes
the sky sings to you
and tells you to wake up
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink
she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
i was a chest of treasures
and you opened me up and unpacked all the drawers
you took out the stories
you admired the knick knacks with fervent curiosity
and unveiled long-forgotten images of times past.
you showed your friends
and you called your mother to tell her what you found inside
"marvelous things"
that's what you called them.
you told people on the street about your treasure chest.
some thought you were crazy, but you didn't care.
you kept that treasure chest close
you were fond of it and opened it often
and you believed with the strongest conviction that it would continue to surprise you.
you appreciated its exterior, with its warped wood and rusted metal,
and how even covered in scratches it functioned as a vessel for something good.
when others found treasure chests too,
you didn't bat an eye.
because your treasure chest was trusted, strong and always by your side.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
the most beautiful thing
that god does
to people
is that he gifts them
to each other.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
I come from sunlight,
The sweeping of leaves,
South London streets,
Lurburnum seeds;
Hot semolina,
A spoonful of jam,
Hands full of gooseberries,
That's who I am.
I come from rose petals,
The sound of the fairs,
The smell of candyfloss
Mist in the air;
I come from warmth,
My parents hands,
Outings to parks,
Both small and grand.
I come from knowledge,
True and false,
From nursery rhymes,
And stories and pictures of God;
I come from gentleness,
A quiet afternoon,
From visions of loveliness,
Sewn on a spool.
I come from two worlds,
With different ways,
A threaded pearl necklace,
And sensible soles
A mother and father,
I think I knew,
I came and I wandered,
I looked at the view.
By Mary **
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC