she sits
in her grandmothers chair
head in hand
staring placidly out the window
frost is starting to form at the outer edges
and she feels the chill creeping through the glass
so she tightens the afghan, another of her grandmothers
hand me downs, around her
and starts to gently rock back and forth
  staring
into the dreary winter vastness
letting her mind wonder
to simpler times
carefree, uninhibited, happy
   young
no, she thinks, this is not what i had planned
when did it slip from me
when did my dreams dissipate
how can i have let them go so easily
   unknowingly
with a sigh she knows she must accept
her fate
because somehow,
somewhere
she became lost
and she gave up on her dreams
so now, aging,
feeling a slight comfort
being amongst her grandmothers things
she sits
   unsettled
but accepting
accepting the hand she has dealt herself
so many years ago.

I still have blood on my hands from the last boy's heart I tore out who thought he had the chance to get close to me. Well, he thought wrong.



                                 B.S.

Loghain, I am confused
You have proclaimed yourself to be
The worlds greatest living artist
With both pen and brush!
Nay, nay in your own words
The greatest artist who has ever lived
Who then am I to disagree
For I am but a simple mediocre man
With humility in my soul
And therefore must bow before your wisdom
And yet
Hours spent scouring the internet
Studying the great artists and poets
And I can find no reference to your name
Among the artistic greats
Of this modern world
Perhaps you are the artistic angel of god
And he in his infinite wisdom has decided
Not to release your great artistic prowess
Upon we the subservient illiterate masses
As a sub par human I bow
Yes I bow before the greatness that is you
You who deserve the accolades poured upon you
Loghain oh superior being
Long may you rain

Just an ordinary girl by day
Avid comic book reader by night
She loved the comic, Crazy Cool
Read one before bed each night
One day she ran to the comic book shop
To buy the latest issue
Then she saw it was him
The author of Crazy Cool
They locked eyes
She, mesmerized
Asked for an autograph, her real intentions were a disguise
Not to him, he wrote down his number on the inside page
Just the thought of meeting him, left her in a daze
Next day, she gave him a call and he asked him to come meet her
When she arrived at his place, she was surprised no one was there to greet her
She found a comic book with a note that said turn this page
And there he was looking up at her, she collapsed in a daze

He looked down sadly
Staring at his hands
"I'm covered in heart break."
I touched his arm
And he looked up at me
"I know."
"Its the color of your eyes."
"I know that, too."


.

I deleted a social media
to try and discover who i actually am
without peoples perceived notions of me

an existential crisis stems
from a perceived loss of identity
through an account
where most people didn't know my name