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2.3k · Feb 2014
Sea Glass
Bird Feb 2014
Go broken:
Succumb, surrender.
Who knows why you’re broken?
Maybe an accident
Slipped from clumsy, drunken hands
Maybe you were broken intentionally
only so one day you’d be fixed.
But none-the-less,
Go broken.

Your color is dull
and your shape asymmetrical.
You’re untouchable.
The clutch that dropped you into the tortuous waves of the night
trails blood down its fragile fingers
As they curse you for what you have done.

Go shattered:
Forget why; as she will when she finds you.
No one will see your story,
only your beauty
Once left shattered.

The light will reflect off your surface:
beautiful, translucent, and pastel.
Your color now sun kissed and weathered.
But the most beautiful of all is your touch.

When she finds you,
resting where the white crashing foam meets the dark hardened sand,
her finger can trace your once lethal edges
over and over.
She can seal her hand around you,
as she closes her eyes and breathes in the ocean air,
the sun kissing her pale face as it once kissed yours,
feeling only smoothness in that hand.

Can you feel the warmth,
where you were once cursed at and discarded?

Go:
Go to a new life
Where she can see your beauty
and feel your beauty.

Go:
And thank the sea as you go
1.2k · Feb 2014
The Hat
Bird Feb 2014
My heart
a ticking time bomb
beating faster and faster
louder and louder.
Until it began to sink
in a wonderful way.
A time bomb ticking
faster and faster
louder and louder
now with the weight of it’s heavy anchor
pulling deeper and deeper
downward
or maybe inward.

White knuckles on the steering wheel
gripping tight at ten and two
all I can do to calm the earthquakes
stemming from my chest
and radiating through my finger tips.

My stomach is tortuous
twisting and turning
in an effort to keep out my frenzied heart.
A turf war
as the anchor drags it downward
threatening to invade occupied territory.

Now faster and faster
louder and louder.
My heart is banging on every inch of my chest
desperately wanting my attention.
Franticly, screaming and banging
begging me to be rational.

Or maybe, just maybe
my heart was bouncing and screaming
as high off the adrenaline
as I was.
Maybe it smiled as it ran
eyes closed, scissors in hand.
Perhaps the cool façade
I held
only held in my expression.

In the dark of the night
the sun found its way to my cheeks
as they burned
hotter and hotter
until the sunburn left
its brand on my skin.
The only visible sign
reflecting my inner state.

Outside of the car,
the only light shone from windows lit up
by families
ignorant to the
earthquakes, turf wars, and ticking time bombs
so close to their safe
quiet homes.

The earthquake spread
its destruction to my legs
as the right one focused
slow and steady on the gas
and the left bounced
at a pace to match the my heart.

The car crawled forward
past the families
safe in their homes.
I was a frantic fish
desperately dancing in the unfamiliar air
begging to be released
in the center of the calm,
peaceful lake.

The car stopped
and there was silence.
The radio played,
the engine hummed,
the cars sped by.
Awaiting the inevitable mass destruction,
my breath was taken,
it all stopped.

The cold hand encompassed my cheek
and the lips pressed against mine
with a contradicting force and gentleness
stopping the earthquakes
the turf war
the sinking
and shaking
the faster
the louder
and the ticking time…
697 · Feb 2014
Elephant Tree
Bird Feb 2014
The green leaves
The turning autumn leaves
The branches barren from leaves

The strong dark bark
Initials and hearts with promises
carved into its thick skin.
The perfect curve of the branch,
bending but never breaking.
Taking our weight as we climb, sit, and bounce
Constantly testing its strength.

The passing cars
oblivious to the tree
hidden by rocks and neighboring branches.
Safeguarded by the promise of a tourist’s ignorant and focused eye.

The quiet rustle of a hunting coyote
The sweet melody of a Spring Robin
and the answer of a nesting squirrel.

The worn and weathered marble table.
The rusted water fountain that fails with each attempt.
I wonder who ever drank
from its bronze spout
in the woods.

On inhale:
the crisp, fresh air
and scent of miles of blooming apple trees.

Trusted family and friends
discovering a place
old and dear to me.

— The End —