Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sep 2016 · 769
the archangel of mediocrity
Danielle Laurén Sep 2016
i am the archangel of mediocrity
clothed in layers of sorrow
cursed to a life of striving
chasing after repentance

my bones creak like an old oak floor
laden with a heavy dose of shame
rid me of my inadequacies, i plead
they suffocate me like a plague

make my sick heart beat again
fill my lungs with life not death
let the blind see light once more
forgive me father for i have sinned
Danielle Laurén Aug 2013
one. he will see right past the clever disguises and camouflage that you use to deter the world from your weary self. he will see directly into your character; into your heart and your soul. he will like what he sees, and he will want more. he will write about it.

two. after writing about your soul until it has exhausted his own, he will surface for air. there he will notice your body. he will be mesmerized by its curves and valleys. he will want to bathe in your very presence, as if the radiance of your body will make him think the way you think. he will write about it.

three. he will dream up a future for the two of you, a hopelessly impossible love story with just the right amount of heartbreak. he will be dissatisfied when life doesn't follow his carefully scripted plot. he will realize he has crafted you into the perfect antihero. he will write about it.

four. he will attempt to find a way to immortalize you. he will want the idea of you to live on like a musty echo rocking the surface of our dry and cavernous earth. he won't accept the fact that his darling was never made for eternity. he will write about it.

five. he will wonder if his words have corrupted you. the portrait he has made barely resembles you at this point. he will not know what to say to you anymore, because unlike the words on the page, you left. he will write about it.

six. he will ponder life without you. even things like grocery shopping and brushing teeth will be different without you by his side. he will struggle, but his heart will heal. he will write about it.
Jul 2013 · 1.3k
Love letter from a raindrop.
Danielle Laurén Jul 2013
Sometimes I wonder if I am a raindrop
Lightly dancing on your windshield.
The forecast didn't call for rain
Yet here I am, and so you yield.

Sometimes I wonder if my fall to the ground
Keeps you awake at night.
I know that my bolts of lightning
Are said to be far too bright.

Sometimes I wonder if I can take it any longer;
My atmospheric pressure is about to burst.
No one can explain it to me, however.
The ground I walk on must be cursed.

Sometimes I wonder if you can feel the plates
Moving deep within my bones.
Do you ever mistake thunder
For my body's angry creaks and groans?

Sometimes I wonder if you think of me at all;
The maelstrom you couldn't tame.
Perhaps the wiper on your car
Can rid you of my shame.
Jul 2013 · 434
she is.
Danielle Laurén Jul 2013
she is an unrequited reverie, a fractured piece of porcelain; even her sharp edges sparkle with the favor of the gods.

she is a curator of abandoned dreams and forgotten memories. her mind is the museum that treasures them all.

she is a keeper of knickknacks and old letters and quilts. she listens to the stories they have to tell with devotion.

she is an explorer that never left her home town. her travels only take place in her mind, but they are filled with adventure.

she is a lover without a beloved. she shares her heart with any who will have it. she never worries about running out of love.
Jul 2013 · 1.4k
My sonnet of mistakes.
Danielle Laurén Jul 2013
You were like the abnormally warm days of winter that make me wish for spring before its time. Self-assuredly you spoke with a confidence that was beyond your years, yet without an air of pretension. Your words painted dreams of a future just beyond your grasp, while I was still attempting to sketch the bare outlines of mine. You knew what you wanted from life, and you pursued it. For a while I thought that was me, but I was wrong. The way you looked at me seemed completely different. It was as if I was the first sunset or flower or snowflake you had ever seen. I felt intimately precious, and that terrified me. I tried to hide my feelings with a heavy coating of indifference. But you saw right through my façade; you always did. Because you were too old for me, too experienced, too wise. And I was too much for you. Though you were never mine, you will remain my sonnet of mistakes.
Jul 2013 · 2.3k
you are my protagonist.
Danielle Laurén Jul 2013
you are the hero, the main character, the one trying to hold the story together in your shaking hands.

because you are the story yourself. you are my story. your twisted plot lines intrigue me.

you are my protagonist, yet you are also the antagonist. you are a blessing and a curse dropped into my lap; your intensity terrifies me at times.

i know that you will overcome your enemies in the end, even if that enemy is yourself. because it’s about time we had a happy ending.

— The End —