Alice Kay: Favorites

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Cheers

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Maria

Cheers

Or maybe it was the wine.

They drank it like kings as if their French vintages could hide their infantile laughs.
As if they could cover up their scar stained arms.

For hangovers end but their blood stained memories will not go away with more *****, with more money, with more "friends". And they are lonely.

Their money bought them love, and their ***** brought them friends. But now the bottles empty and they’ve been told one too many times that love never lasts.

They’ve found another bottle now.

They’ve found another excuse to celebrate.

But soon enough, they will bee drinking alone.

Inspired by Maskless by Miles Hodges

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Death by loneliness part II

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Renee S L

Death by loneliness part II

It seems that this life
is filled with
hazel eyes
watered down.

Watered down so that
not even the sun
nor wind
could or would chap and dry them.

but we wish they could.

the elements,
they are all I've got now.

When the pain strikes
and it rips my lungs
I would hope the wind would heal me.

Help me breath.
fill my lungs with its breath.
take away all this pain.

Or maybe the sun.
dry the shiver
awaken my alma.
soak up all my pain.

For a moment,
pain seemed to subside.
but the swiftness came.
Comes rudely.

Rudely indeed.
Never calls ahead.
no courtesy for me.
Barges in abruptly.

Today it came
to take me back,
to a place.

A place
which lately,
unfortunately,
seems too familiar.

This place jabs
hard.

My heart,
it can't breathe.

Is that where I am choking?
my lungs or heart.
Where is the wind?

I am too young to not love this life.
I am too young to feel this.

I regurgitate my heart.
It's the only thing left to do.

Then where do I go?
This new place is all I know.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Lucky.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Shannan Mae

Lucky.

Grass tickles my feet.
There’s a penny on the ground.
I pick it up with my toes.
(The way I would have when I was little.)
I hand the penny to you and tell you today’s going to be lucky.
You call me a dork and touch your lips to mine.
(I always liked how tall I was, you didn’t have to bend over to kiss me.)
I run and tell you to catch me.
When you do we fall to the ground giggling.
We lay there together.
Your hands are so warm on my legs.
(That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met, how warm your hands were.)
When I wake up you are still asleep and I cannot feel your hand on my leg.
I stare at the wheel chair by the bed.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

don't come around

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Cali

don't come around

I lied when I told you
that I was okay, that
colors were still colors
and that my thoughts
were still pure.

you should've known better,
dear, that I am the dirtiest
form of clean, gritty smile
and the inescapable nature
of a poet.

don't look so surprised
at the words that bounce
off the roof of my mouth.
I know you shudder at
my carelessness, at my
inclination to destruction,
but don't look at me that way,
darling.

don't come around,
if you can't thrive on decay.
don't think twice about leaving,
I never promised you a martyr.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

My Paintbrush Has Dried (excerpt - 4:20)

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Pandora dO

My Paintbrush Has Dried (excerpt - 4:20)

The paint on my paintbrush
may have already dried,

but remember, I did not leave you,
even though I died.

© 2012
A fictional piece, where painting is a metaphor for what is accomplished in life.
These are four of my favourite lines.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Out

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Kayla

Out

Eye lids flutter,
Mind spinning round,
Memories floating by,
Tears falling down,
Spinning spinning,
Falling,
On the floor,
Out

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Winter Britain

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Tom Orr

Winter Britain

Steam escapes the surface
Of infant mince pies.
It spirals upwards, dancing
Into the winter haze
Where headlights, opaquely visible,
Fight the fog.

The mist flurries atop the frozen pond,
Over brittle leaves, half caught.
The deer nuzzles in frosty thickets,
Searching the winter veil
For stray nut.

‘neath the tap my hands endure
The bitter cold of winter’s water;
But happily I return to my window,
And cast a gaze once more on winter Britain.
The fire leaves a smoky essence,
A homely smell.
December come.

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

Torche

Nov 2012 Alice Kay

August

Torche

Babe, I **** time with a dagger
But believe me, it isn't as fun
As it was killing time with you