Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Mar 2015 authentic
burned up
I am a gladiator in the Roman Colosseum
when the lions are let loose
and I've been given a sword that's too small
to defend myself with
The people in the stands are laughing at me
Not one of them reaches down to pull me out
Because they put me here
They sent these lions to hunt me down
for the crimes I committed
They clap and cheer
Because to them it's a sport
watching me get torn apart
And I never thought I would be down in this pit
Because I once sat where they did
Jeering and clapping for convicts to pay their dues
But look where I am now
I am the gladiator in the Roman Colosseum
when the lions are let loose
authentic Mar 2015
There is a boy
His skin is a warm dawn on the eastern mountains
His smile is the flick of a match in isolated darkness
He does not hold to the world, only the people of it
He cares for those with heavy hearts
But deep love is not one among his many skills
He never really fell, only tripping others to fall into him
I do not know how to leave him alone
So for now, I will wait here, collecting dust,
if only it means I will touch some of his particles that fall on the floor
authentic Mar 2015
Fear sits in a chair across from me
Eyes peering through my skull
I wonder what he is looking for
My body tenses
A spark of tingling is lit at the tip of my toes
It climbs
Clawing at my ribcage, gripping my throat
Flooding my mind
As I try and convince myself that the wars in my head
are crafted from divine reason
My body tenses more
Fear, still staring, smiles
Because he's found what he's looking for
A face of boy, sitting there in the vacancy of my brain
And I would have cried
But I've learned that there is no use in getting your face wet
Over a silly, inconsistent boy
authentic Mar 2015
I was never good at coping with severe pain
I only magnified the existence of it
My heart pounded into my chest like a plane crashing into a building
You will never get used to someone not loving you
Of course, we say it will get better and that you will feel renewed, refreshed once you finally move on, they promise that it will be okay
But how am I supposed to trust these people that never knew you
I've tried to let go, to throw away the things at the bottom of the box
To burn and let the ashes dance in the wind off to some better place
But each and every time I spark the lighter, I end up burning myself
Instead
authentic Mar 2015
The way the world sees a woman today
Is quiet strange to me
It is survival of the prettiest in the hallways
Death of them on the streets
Playing the first game we learned how to
Twirling our hair to the boy with the cigarette in his mouth
Because the bad ones were always more alluring
Wearing a short skirt in the city is like driving without a seatbelt
Girls are taught to survive by using our bodies as weapons
We convince boys to love us the only way we know how
Because what good are words when he can't see your mouth
We know the answers but do not raise our hands
Let someone else take the victory
Male kindness is so alien to us we assume it as a cat call every time
And after you have given your body away to countless boys,
each one taking a piece of you
That is when you will realize how badly you needed them to see the whole picture clearly
You will greet the mirror like a criminal in a line up
Do not think that this is your fault
Do not think that this is his
Strip your clothes, get into your shower and wash off his scent
Let it linger for only a moment but not for too long
Wipe your face, comb your hair and let all of the crippled reasons bleed out on why you should give yourself up again
Remind yourself of your value
And get dressed
authentic Mar 2015
Early morning coffee on the front balcony
Where the smoke dances with the fog
You never liked to get up this early
But something was different about today
The ideas lingered in the air
And you watched and waited for one useful
So you could grab hold of it and put it in a poem
See the words stack on top of one another
Like bricks of a castle you once dreamed about
Fragile but holding such strong will to shield its princess from harm
There was something about this Saturday morning
Something that set it apart from the rest
Maybe it was the smell of rain on the pavement
Or the dewdrops on your balcony railing
Maybe it was the way you simply couldn’t get comfortable in bed
Maybe it was because last night
You slept in it, alone
authentic Mar 2015
He was so quiet and I could tell he was nervous
I kept walking and I could feel the sweat gathering on his hand
I clench it tighter
The scene, however, was breathtaking
A long wooden bridge with white paint peeling and wrinkling of old age, intimately lit with candles dancing in a light breeze
The sun was falling in the west
And so was I, more and more each day for this man
It amazing what he does to me
The water beneath us, singing as it rippled within itself
I listened to the hum of each footstep of ours, almost in sync
I turn to him,
"Are you okay? You're being really quiet."
"I'm fine, just a little anxious, that’s all."
We are coming to the end of the bridge and I see a table
Draped in a thin, dark blue table cloth with two lawn chairs
There's orchids in the center, my favorite flower
What I love about orchids are the petals themselves are so exquisite but their stems have to be held up by little clips, they are beautiful but they cannot stand on their own, like a lot of other beautiful things
I look back up at him as he slips his hand out of mind, wipes it on his pants and pulls out my chair smiling like a child on Christmas morning
I look at him in that moment as a strand of hair falls over his forehead
I can see the color and shape of my perfect life
The house, the children, the arguments over the curtains are all fading away with that one smile of his

I was so nervous, I literally cannot bring myself to talking
I mean, the things I would usually jump to have already been discussed
The weather, how her day was, how beautiful she looks
Well, I wouldn’t mind telling her that again
The bridge creaks with each footstep of ours as if it is imploring for our bodies to sink into the water beneath it
The trees were swaying just enough for the leaves to rustle with each other but lightly enough for me to still hear the sound of her breathing
The sun was falling in the west, I gazed at it
An alluring sunset burning up the atmosphere
Speaking of burning, my hands are sweating so much
I would tell her how sorry I was but I think she already knows
The sound of her voice startles me a little but I play it off... I think
"Are you okay? You're being really quiet"
****, I am being really quiet
"I'm fine just anxious, that’s all"
We are coming to the end of the bridge and everything is just how I hoped it would be, the table from my dad's shop, the dark blue table cloth from Sears, the orchids in the center, her favorite flower
I slip my hand out of hers which was a lot harder than I expected it to be, I just don’t want to stop touching her
I wipe them on my pants nonchalantly and pull out her chair
Honestly, I've stopped trying to not smile
I can't help myself, it's amazing what she does to me
I kept looking at her and wondering how lucky I could be to have found someone who reminds me of sunlight even on the rainiest of days
I swear in a world of black and white, she would still have color
Next page