Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
frankie crognale Dec 2013
there’s a girl i know.  she sits at the end of the table in the coffee shop all by herself.  i’ve never spoken to her, but she’s the most interesting person i’ve ever encountered.  she sits there with her music blasting her ear drums, unable to hear the regular coffee shop madness happening around her.  she’ll glance up and notice it, but she chooses not to actually see it.  she’s in her own little world, and she liked it that way.  she’ll sit in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop for as long as you’ll let her, flipping the pages of her favorite book or creating sparks with weapon of choice, the pen.  she’s in her place where she feels secure in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop.  every season she’ll be there.  the dead of winter brings black rimmed glasses, flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and combat boots. rugged, yet suitable.  her sweater weather drink is a medium hot peppermint mocha with an extra shot of espresso, normally with a wedge of cheesecake or a cinnamon pastry.  as winter comes to an end and spring begins to bloom, she emerges out of the tiny cocoon she’s put herself in for the winter and flies into the world like a beautiful butterfly. when the sun is out, she’s shedding her own light on all the regulars in the coffee shop.  she might not be talking to them, but she’s enchanting them in her own special way in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop.  she has the most mesmerizing eyes, from what i’ve seen of her.  her eyes can pierce you right through your flesh, creep into your bones, and go straight through your heart like an arrow at it’s terminal velocity.  with those eyes, without fatality, she scans the room, her favorite book, her chipping nail polish, her clothing, which has now become high waisted shorts she made out of a pair of her dad’s old jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of black converse sneakers.  simple, yet lovely.  her drink has gone from a medium hot peppermint mocha with an extra shot of espresso to a medium iced green tea with a squeeze of lemon and a drop of organic honey, nothing extra to go along with it. her skin is sun kissed, and her lips are cherry red.  her eyebrows are arched just high enough above her black framed glasses, and freckles spotting her tiny nose.  her hair is bouncy black curls, sometimes ******* in a messy bun or left down naturally. her music varied with the seasons, as well.  the sweater weather brought muse and two door cinema club.  bikini season brought the wombats or the arctic monkeys.  i knew what music she listens to because she blares it so loudly against the brick walls of the coffee shop.  she probably thinks she’s doing us a favor.  all of these attributes go into making this girl the most intricate girl i’ve ever come across in this small town coffee shop.  i don’t know much about this girl.  i wish i knew a little bit more.  i wonder what her name is, who her friends are and why they’re never there with her, if she has any cats, what dressing she puts on her salad, how many times a day she brushes her teeth, if she prefers pen or pencil, what kind of sushi she likes, or what kind of shampoo she uses. i wish i knew every single detail of this girl, but i do know a few things for certain.  she’s the seasons.  she changes her appearance and her mysterious attitude towards everything outside her little world. her drink and her music change, too.  the only thing that still remains the same through all of the changes is her spot in the chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop.
until the day i said hello.
5.3k · Sep 2014
frankie crognale Sep 2014
insanity is broken veins

insanity is cracked

insanity is a hangover you can’t cure with some water

insanity is dead skin and mardi gras beads

insanity is absolutely repulsive

you’re going in circles

insanity is the tipping point

insanity is over the edge


insanity is writer’s block

insanity is broken veins

insanity is attempting to laugh but simply stuttering


insanity is a lit cigarette close to the filter but not quite there yet

insanity is pepper

insanity is insanity

insanity is broken veins

insanity is broken veins

insanity is
3.2k · Dec 2013
when they were 16
frankie crognale Dec 2013
she was in love.
she was in love with a boy.
she was in love with a boy who didn’t love her back.
she was a beautiful girl when she was sixteen.  she was the most insecure girl you’d ever meet, but you’d never know because her award winning smile hid all of the insecurities. black curly hair, olive skin, beautiful big brown eyes, cherry lips, and naturally aligned perfect teeth.  she knew she was beautiful deep down, although she hated to admit it, because of an unfortunate series of events that occurred in the past.  she was the happiest girl you could ever meet, or at least that’s how she came across.  she acted as though nothing was wrong, when in reality, a lot was wrong.  she knew her peers thought of her as a person who tried too hard to be different, but that’s who she was.  she was different, and she knew it.  
he was a breathtaking boy when he was 16.  he was just as insecure as she was, but you'd find it hard to believe, since he was so picturesque. blonde hair, pale skin, pacific ocean eyes, bright pink lips, and very white teeth.  he didn’t know he was breathtaking, because of an unfortunate series of events that occurred in the past.  he always thought of himself as a person without a place, even though he believed everyone had a place in the world, he just hadn’t found his yet.  he bottled things up inside until they sunk low enough to go out of view, until he forgot about them.  he knew he had a place, he just didn’t know where.  he was different, too.  just as different from everyone else as the girl was.
she told him everything.  more than she told her other friends. more than she told her best friend of fourteen years. she didn’t know it at first, but she would fall hard for him, harder than when she fell off her longboard the first time.  just like that first fall, it would hurt.  it would make her bleed, and it would transform her.  from it, she would become a better person, and definitely a more cautious one.  she wasn’t aware of it yet, but he would change her in two ways.  for the better, and for the worse.
the background knowledge of this tale isn’t important.  all that needs to be known is how she has now fallen in love with him, harder than she’s ever fallen for someone.  however, he’s since moved away.  how far, you ask?  3,000 miles across the ocean.  her love for him has grown dramatically since this, and she’s told him, but he doesn’t feel the same way.  he’s said it straight to her face, on multiple occasions.  to directly quote it, “the feeling is there, but it just isn’t prominent.”  naturally, this kills her inside. the hardest thing to endure is watching the one you love, love someone else. in fact, this makes her want to curl up in her comforter and cry, and hopefully never come out.  she loved this boy, and she loved him completely unconditionally.  no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get him to see her that way.  the only time he ever takes any interest in her is when she’s undressed. she would use her body for love, and he used love for her body. she was blinded, and she didn’t want to see him using her, so she refused to believe it.  she’s confronted him about it, and he’s said he isn’t using her, so she was convinced he wasn't, mostly because she could never make herself believe he was lying to her.  
he knew everything about her.  he knew her full name, which not a lot of people did.  he knew about her past; the past that involved a small wrist and a large blade.  he knew about her future; the future that involved a small apartment in new york and a job at vogue. he knew about the husband, or wife, she wanted, since she was bisexual.  only he knew that. he knew how much she loved him, as well. he was well aware of that, but obviously he didn't know how much it would **** her inside to know he didn't think the same of her. he didn't think it through. if he did, he would have saved her a lot of pain.
she was sitting in her bedroom one day. she was thinking mostly about him. she kept playing the sweet things he'd said to her in the past back in her mind, and suddenly she found herself smiling and feeling warm inside. she loved him. she loved him more than anyone she'd ever loved before. just as she was thinking, he messaged her on facebook. her heart fluttered, she couldn't wait to see what he said.
"i have to talk to you" his tone was stern, which somewhat scared her, since he was never sincere like this.
"okay sure, what's up, deary?" she always called him deary, it was the most natural response for her.  she was trying to lighten the mood a bit, as well.
"as you know since i've moved here, my feelings for you have somewhat gone away. and with that being said, i've found somebody."
she could've sworn she heard her heart fall down to her feet and break into one million tiny pieces.
"you have a girlfriend now?"
she logged off of facebook without answering his message, and went to the corner of her room where a tiny piece of her carpet was cut into a square and ripped off the floor so it could be lifted up. she lifted the piece of carpet up to reveal a bag and a blade. a tiny plastic bag, and a tiny metal blade. a tiny plastic bag that had an assortment of different pills in it, and a tiny metal blade with dried blood tracing the edges of it from her past. the pills were things such as ibuprofen or acetometaphine, and the blade was a replacement blade from her dad's razor, since his was sharper than hers.
her past wasn't particularly something she liked to remember. she had once been suicidal. she had cut herself. she had intentionally burned herself. she had snapped a hair tie against her wrist during school. she's tried ending her life with those same pills. she kept them there if she needed them.
as of right now, she needed them more than ever.
she opened the bag, got two bottles of water, and began to swallow the pills. one by one.  as she swallowed them, she found herself taking the sharp piece of metal to her wrist.  she caressed it gently before dragging it across the noticeable scars, going deeper and deeper with each ****.
after about thirty five pills and twelve lacerations, she began to get terrible stomach pain, and her blood wasn’t clotting any longer.  she strayed away from her wrist and moved down to her hips, her v-line, and upper thighs. she could feel her demise coming, but she wanted it right then.  she didn't cry as she threw the pills down, her heart was too heavy, her body too frail, that she couldn't produce the tears, even though she wanted to.
twenty more pills.
three more cuts.
five more pills.
two more cuts.
one more pill.
and just like that, she was gone.
about an hour or so later, her mother knocked on her door. she made sure to leave the door unlocked so her mother wouldn't find her and be angry. her mother hated when she locked her door. she walked in, and once she saw her daughter laying on the floor near the piece of torn up carpet, she collapsed to her knees over her top of her. she noticed a small paper laying next to her body. she unfolded it. on it was this:
"you know, it’s funny. now everyone will care. now he’ll love me. if you all had felt this way when i was alive, i wouldn’t be dead."
it’s almost like she knew her death would be one of the biggest news highlights of the year in her small town.  it’s almost like she knew photos of her would be everywhere.  it’s almost like she knew her suicide note was going to become the most viral thing to hit the nation in four years.
her mother had no idea what that meant. she couldn't think anyway, for her teenage daughter had just mutilated her insides with common household drugs.
with the little energy she had left in her body, she stumbled downstairs to where the telephone was. she dialed her husband's work number, and was completely hysteric when he answered the phone. he told her to calm down, so she tried to. when she finally stopped crying long enough to get words out, she told him.  he said he was about to leave his office. he didn't care about anything else in the day, he just had to get home. he had to get home to see his little girl for the last time.
her mother told her friends, and the entire town was a complete wreck. memorials were hung everywhere. pictures of her death note were posted in newspapers and on street corners. a segment was even on the news about her. she had never felt loved in her life, but when she died, everyone turned into her friend. girls who called her fat and ugly in middle school said she was beautiful.  boys that called her obnoxious and annoying said she was fun to be around.  teachers who told her she would never get into college and didn’t have a future said she had her entire life ahead of her.  just as her suicide note said, if they had all acted this way when she was still here, she wouldn’t have left.
the boy messaged her one day, wanting to tell her something again. when she didn't answer, he sent her another message. he obviously hadn't looked at his facebook news feed in a few days, considering everyone's status was about her, and there were pictures of her everywhere; pictures of her and her friends, her and her beloved cats, or her alone.  looking at the pictures was painful for everyone, since her beautiful smile was only lived on in the pictures now.  her eyes sparkled in the photos, but not as much as they did in real life.  now, the photos were all that was left.
he sent her another message, saying this:
"well if you aren't going to answer me then i guess i'll just tell you. i broke up with my girlfriend already. i realized a few things when i was with her. she isn't you. i love you, i really do. i hope you can forgive me and i hope we'll talk soon.  bye babe."
he only called her babe when he felt closest to her.  some days, where they would flirt a lot, they would both feel warm and fuzzy inside and completely loved.  neither ever admitted it, but they both knew exactly how the other felt.  among the pet names and multiple kissy faces, they had great conversations.  they were so open around each other, neither of them had ever been like that with anyone else.  she knew she was made for him, although he didn’t realize it until after it was too late.
after he sent it, he decided to check his news feed. he saw the pictures and status messages. he couldn't believe it. he didn't know how much he hurt her. he killed her inside so much that she actually killed herself. he was the one that always made her feel better when she was feeling down. he's the one that got her to stop hurting herself. she told him once that she was going to stop for herself, when subliminally she stopped for him, because she knew he didn't like it. she didn't think he could ever love her with the cuts up and down her arms, so she stopped making them. she was alive because of him, but now, she was dead because of him.  he gave her a reason to want to live, and a reason to want to die.
life was still odd for him after her passing. he'd think about her often. she would come to him in dreams. he’d listen to her favorite song, which was one of his favorite songs as well, called “i wanna be yours” by the arctic monkeys.  he introduced her to the arctic monkeys, actually.  he never realized how much the lyrics meant to her, the more he listened to them he recognized the relevance of them.  he's sworn he’s seen her on street corners in his city. he knew it couldn't be, but every time he thought he saw her, tears would well up in his eyes and he'd have to turn around and go home. he didn't speak to anyone, nor did he tell anyone about her, especially not what he felt for her. everyone would think it was out of pity, pity for her and her death. he regretted making her feel worthless when he told her he didn't love her, because he did, and they both knew that.  she always knew deep down there was more feeling to it than he said, but she couldn't get past him saying those things. and that's why she killed herself.
years passed. he never found anyone, and she decayed in the beautiful tiffany blue dress she wears for eternity. it would've been her 25th birthday when he first went to see her at her final resting place. there was a photo of her on her stone, one of the last pictures ever taken of her. his breath was taken away by her beauty, she had the same warm smile he remembered when he saw her the last time. her eyes bright with playfulness, and her cheeks round and rosy. he could still hear her laugh. it was almost contagious. he was in love with her all over again, and she wasn't there to tell.
although, she was there. she heard every thought inside her head and saw every emotion he was feeling. she regretted her decision. she hated herself for not being patient and not going with her instinct. now, they could never be together. they were made for each other, and they both knew it.
he flung himself onto her burial site, weak at the knees and tears down his face. he missed her just as much as she missed him. he regretted never kissing her when he had the chance. he wanted to take back every time he ever told her he didn't love her. she took her life because of those things, and he was too pessimistic with the thought of "i'll never see her again" stuck in his head that he couldn't hear what his heart was saying.
he never married. he continued to visit her, almost every day. he couldn't stand to not see her, even if she wasn't there. she visited him every night as well, just to watch him sleep. she still thought he was the most breathtaking boy she'd ever seen. and she was just as beautiful as she was before. just as beautiful, and just as breathtaking. just like when they were 16.
frankie crognale Oct 2014
i still remember the day i met you
it was in the middle of july or sometime around there and from the start i really really liked you but there were always doubts in the back of my head because why on this earth we live on would someone like you ever even merely want to breathe the same air as me let alone kiss me and put the same air into my lungs?
as beautiful as the thoughts of sharing the same air were the doubts were still there and even though they sometimes faded away they always seemed to come back especially when you showed me your favorite songs because i knew there was so much feeling behind the way you interpreted the lyrics and i didn’t understand any of it or maybe i just didn’t think of them the same way but you told me the night you were drunk that there was so much more to them than just silly nostalgia and it was then that i knew you weren’t good for me
the lyrics were a subliminal message to me that the air in our lungs wasn’t air at all it was actually every chemical in the cigarettes you smoke amplified by three thousand times and it only got worse every time you kissed me but i was okay with our lungs both being black because black is our favorite color
that’s the only thing we have in common
the texts during sixth period came to a sudden halt and so did the snapchats even though they were always of the ground and the skype calls at two am and the instagram likes and the you’re beautiful's and the i miss you's
you always said you’d keep your distance but i never thought you’d actually leave and i really didn’t think it would be without saying goodbye but it’s okay because now the fragments i spilled to this page are full sentences and everything is validated
maybe you only wanted to kiss me because you knew it charred the inside of me and turned me into your favorite color
i can breathe my own air now and maybe just maybe my lungs won’t be black anymore
frankie crognale Jan 2014
i couldn't stop looking at this girl. i glanced down at my black leather jacket, black v-neck, ripped blue jeans, and black boots with the buckles on the side. i popped my collar and set out to find the girl i'd just found. i noticed the lights of this weird indie club i'd somehow ended up in. this music isn't normal "club" music. it's all arctic monkeys. the lyrics of these songs empowered me, i felt as though i had to continue my search for this soul.  despite the darkness, i slid on my aviators to protect myself from those blinding lights, and also to give me a hint of mysteriousness. girls love that.
and then there she was.
sipping on what appeared to be a bottle of coke, but i couldn't tell because of the ******* sunglasses i was wearing. she was standing laughing with one of her friends. she had such a different aura to her. i couldn't help but watch as she pulled out one of her organic cigarettes.
"i wanna make her mine." i thought to myself.
the lights reflected off the sweat on the walls as i tried to keep my cool, strutting my way over to her, hoping to get her eyes to lock onto mine. from what i finally saw of her in plain sight, she had love in her eyes and perfect lighting over her; like a camera plus filter. she took drags of that cigarette like some kind of goddess, causing me to get weak at the knees and form a lump in my throat, which i soon managed to somehow swallow. i had to find out who she was. i wanted her more than i'd ever wanted anything, or at least so i recall. i played out the scene in my head - we'd dance, and numerous guys would approach her. it was hard not to. i'd overpower them. "she's with me.", i'd say cooly.
i didn't realize all this fantasizing about my mystery girl had taken me so little time, because by the time i was finished my train of thought, i was standing right in front of her. god, i wanted her so bad. i swear, if i looked at her long enough, she'd steal my soul. the love in her eyes was contradicted by the incredibly **** sparkle in her iris.
"hello there beautiful. you seem to be having a lovely time. you're absolutely breathtaking, i'm forced to believe you are a certified mind blower. what's your name, milady?"
with a turn of her head, a bat of her lashes, and a flash of her perfect smile, she answered me in the most angelic voice i've ever heard.
inspired by the lovely lyrics of my favorite band ever, the arctic monkeys x
2.1k · Dec 2014
frankie crognale Dec 2014
rhyming is hard
just like rhubarb
sly pie
why are you sly, pie?
the frog is on a log
with the hard rhubarb pie
i kind of just want to fling
myself off a bridge
this is really hard
have you ever noticed how teenagers are SO ******* SAD

nope not happening
down to the important stuff

trying your luck // the strokes
old yellow bricks // arctic monkeys
electric feel // mgmt
alone, together // the strokes
stray away // the colourist
games // the strokes

rhubarb pie
i had to write a rhyming piece for poetry class.. i don't rhyme.
2.1k · Dec 2013
cigarettes and coffee
frankie crognale Dec 2013
caramel macchiato flavored coffee with mint cigarette flavored kisses with your dreamboat lover is the quintessence of what i call "perfection".  if there was a way to describe the way your lips feel against mine, i could only describe it as "cigarettes and coffee".  cigarettes and coffee isn't simply consuming caffeine or inhaling tobacco in your lungs, it's sitting on the roof at 1 am looking at the stars with a blanket around the both of you.  it's laying in the grass with a slight breeze blowing making smoke rings between the arduous kisses.  it's simply sipping a vanilla latte on the corner of a new york city street with a cigarette in your hand, making swirls of smoke as more ash forms above the filter,  looking like some sort of bohemian gods. it's walking along a deserted sidewalk in your black jeans and doc martens with a big t-shirt and coke bottle sunglasses on with your lover on your hip and your menthol in one hand and philter in another.  "cigarettes and coffee" is whatever you can interpret as pure bliss; it's simply whatever makes you happy and whatever makes you want to sit in the grass all night and talk about anything and everything.  there's a lot of people that would argue there's no beauty to the feel of tobacco in your lungs and arabica in your mouth, but evidently, they've never tried cigarettes and coffee.
1.9k · Feb 2014
frankie crognale Feb 2014
as cliche as it sounds
it's a lot easier
to be happy
than to be sad.
happiness can be
drinking your favorite tea
or eating your favorite sandwich.
it can be seeing
a familiar face
you might not have seen
in a while
or having your cat
lick your nose
with their sandpaper tongue.
happiness comes in all shapes and sizes,
in all forms of things,
both living and non-living.
however, it's up to you
to find your happiness
in those things.
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i can't tell which is more breathtaking, the fire in the sky or the one in your eyes.
the clouds suspended over the horizon were turning deep purple mixed with a bit of blue and orange.  it was one of the fall sunsets where everything is completely still as the clouds slowly dance in the sky above you. the reflection of them draped over my chocolate eyes as i was focused on your every movement.  my palm lightly floating over yours, our shadows growing as the sun departed.  i listen to you slowly but steadily breathing, still observing you with critical detail. you turned your neck slowly and your eyes traveled up to lock onto mine.  a slight chill traveled up my spine, i can't even look at you without being startled; you're just so beautiful. so rare and so fragile.  by now, the sun has hidden itself from us behind the peaks right near those steep cliffs we love so much.  in the back of my head, i had a song playing - "crystal" by two door cinema club.  i decided to follow the direction of the lyric "i left you on that street, your shadow at your feet, i should've kissed you".  i couldn't look at you without wanting to inch my lips closer and closer to yours.  i eventually had grown close enough to feel your breath on me for only a few moments, as i couldn't hold myself back any longer. you pulled me closer to you, wrapped your arms around me, and pressed your soft lips against mine at last.  there was a warm feeling in my chest and i could feel myself blushing as your slowly pulled away to bite my lip. it's hard to describe the way you tasted, but i couldn't get enough of you.  you intoxicated me more than all the alcohol on the earth; i get drunk off of you after one sip.  i never wanted to pull away from you.  everything about it made everything alright; i'd never felt so desired in my life.  the way your hands moved around me, the feeling of our teeth colliding in between the ever changing gentleness and intensity.  i'd never craved something so much as much as i crave you right now.  you're simply tantalizing, i don't know how i ever went more than three seconds without you.  i want to take drags of you constantly, i want to feel you like smoke in my lungs. i want to take multiple hits of you, i want you to be the burning sensation in the back of my throat.  with you in my hand still, i look up at the fluorescent ***** of light we call the starts atop the piece of black construction paper we cal the night.  a new song, now playing in the back of my head - " i wanna be yours" by the arctic monkeys.  every single word of every single line makes me long for you.  i really did want to be yours.  i always want to be yours.  i only want to be yours.  i will always want to be yours.  i want to be the air you breathe, the water you drink, the cigarette you smoke, the wine you sip, but especially the coffee in your mug.  i want to be the one to touch your sleepy lips every morning, hoping to wake you up with every temperate impact you make to me.  those rocks we sat upon for however many hours we did made me fancy you eve more.  i wanted you at your lowest point and your highest point, i wanted to hold your hand at all times, even if it breaks my wrist.  finding you was pure luck.  those cliffs with the sun setting behind the peaks made me think a lot.  i'm high when i'm totally sober when i'm with you.  your lips are the sweetest sensation i've ever encountered.  your eyes are brighter than those little fluorescent ***** of light on the piece of black construction paper. you're always going to be with me, in my head and in my heart.  in my hair, on my lips, and in my hand.  i never once thought anything like what we have could ever become what it is now, because i'm so me and you're so you.  maybe i was one of the lucky ones.  there's one term to describe it.  two words in one simple expression.  sweet serendipity.
1.3k · Dec 2013
a walking paradox
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i'm currently laying in my bed with tears in my eyes for the first time in as long as i can remember.  this feeling is far too familiar, and i didn't miss it at all.  it feels like one of those old friends you didn't mind not seeing anymore, you just sort of accepted their absence.  although this isn't a friend; it never has been nor will it ever be.  it's a foe, and alter ego, and as wretched as it is to say, it's truly my former self.  i've heard countless times the phrase "the hardest thing to endure is watch the one you love, love someone else", but there is a bit of deceit behind it.  in my personal opinion, the hardest thing to endure isn't having the one you love, love someone else, but just simply knowing they don't love you back.  any person could possess their heart, while at the same time, they posses yours.  it's a dreadful feeling, really.  it's consuming, and with the consumption comes emptiness.  the emptiness is what sits in the pit of your stomach.  it's a contradiction, i guess you could say.  lately i've become nothing but a contradiction.  in the words of an anonymous novelist, a "fatal contradiction", which frightens be down below the contradictory emptiness in the pit of my stomach, goes through my blue veins, creeps into my fingertips, which act as puppets by making their way up to their controller, beginning to claw at their puppeteer to make the thoughts stop.
1.3k · Jan 2014
frankie crognale Jan 2014
the acoustic guitar is bouncing off the petals of the tiny hibiscus flowers strewn across the floor and tables all around the greenery. the peach trees sedated to the sound of his angelic voice. her golden hair hung next to her cheeks, as if to encircle her in a perfect lighting. her blue-gray eyes suddenly morphed into a pool resembling the bays of the caribbean islands.  sunlight reflected on her pale skin, appearing as bright as diamonds. her dainty frame was shaken by the sweet sound of acoustics and soft synthesizers, gently rattling her utopia. she eagerly listened to the chords, as well as the lyrics of this serenade.
"forever is for everyone else."
why was it for everyone else and not her? what was the symphony telling her? was there really a restriction for it? her feathery eyes grew wide with the dreaded thought of her shrubbed paradise wilting, as she began to believe she would wilt along with it.
just as she realized her train of thought was sure to run her over, she jumped out of the way.
and then she woke up.
inspired by the girl in my studyhall and phoenix's song "bankrupt!" x
1.2k · Dec 2013
frankie crognale Dec 2013
I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
for one reason.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
for the same reason as every morning.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
because I dreamt of you.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
to see if you were still here.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
but I was alone in the mess of sheets.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
because I missed you.
frankie crognale Mar 2015
before i ever met you i had no idea i liked blue eyes especially ones that resemble the crystal clear blue carribean sea and normally i'd never get anywhere near any ocean of any sort but the sea of your eyes is enchanting and it fascinates me to no end, it's what causes me to stay up past three am every night thinking about how heavenly it would be to drown in opulent sapphire serenity, but the weird thing is that i'm normally absolutely petrified of the ocean and when im around you i feel invincible, i guess the ocean is euphoric to some but to me any geographic or cosmic wonder could never compare to the inner and outer beauty that radiates off of you like a ray of sun or a wave through the sea of your irises, i may not have ever told you how beautiful i think your mind is or maybe i did but it's kind of hard to think about anything because im normally too busy wishing i was drowning in you
frankie crognale Nov 2014
i do not recommend having an anxiety attack when you’re driving

i do not recommend laying in your bed in the darkness in the clothes you wore out today 

i do not recommend sulking

i do not recommend being alone

i do not recommend letting people get to you

i do not recommend listening to sad music 

i do not recommend thinking listening to sad music will make you feel better

i do not recommend ever letting anyone break your spirit

i do not recommend showing weakness 

i do not recommend speaking to someone you care about when you’re upset because you will say something you deeply regret

i do not recommend taking out all your stress on your coworkers or the customers you come across at your job because they truly do not care

i do not recommend telling anyone or anything your problems other than your pets or your notebook 

i do not recommend writing sad poetry 
i do not recommend listening to the person you’re infatuated with’s favorite song on repeat because it will only make you hurt more 

i do not recommend drinking your tea right when you steep it because it will burn your tongue

i do not recommend overthinking 

i do not recommend writing sad poetry 
i do not recommend writing sad poetry 
i do not recommend writing sad poetry
1.0k · Dec 2013
a letter to my former love
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i don’t care if you’ll never see this. but if you do, here’s what i was thinking about last night.
i love you.
i can’t take it anymore.  i’m so head over heels, i’ve fallen harder for you than anyone, i just cannot ******* act like i haven’t anymore.  you’re the definition of perfection, the epitome of greatness, the quintessence of beautiful, all of the above, everything, and anything.  i get jealous whenever i see other girls, or even guys talking to you.  i just want to be with you all the time, or at least talking to you.  it’s so hard to express over a simple text post but i’m going to try to.  i wish i could just be able to go up to you everyday and kiss you without even thinking about it.  you’re amazing.  i’ve told you this before but you, first of all, don’t believe me, and second, don’t think it of me, so i can’t tell you to your face.  if i could, i would.  if i could just have all of you all the time i’d never ask for anything else.
it seems as though “starring role” by marina and the diamonds is a very fitting song.  you tell me sweet things (sometimes) when i’m fully clothed but when i get undressed you say them more often.  you don’t have anyone right now, and even though that goes against what the song is portraying, i’m still not the “starring role in your heart”.  
i swear if you were to stay here things would be different but considering that can’t happen, we’ll most likely never know.  my heart breaks just thinking about it, i can’t even bother to, or the salty tears from my eyes will break my keyboard, there’s just so many of them.
i just don’t want to lose anyone else.  and if whatever is between us is strong enough to withstand that much of a distance, who knows what could happen.
the funny thing is that once i realized how hard i fell for you, all the past relationships and heartbreaks and current “crushes” or thoughts of flirting, or just even looking at anyone else in a lustful manner just seemed to fade away, and it all happened so suddenly.
if you never see this, oh well.  you’ll eventually find all of this out.  
and if you do, at least now you know.
if nothing ever came of us, just remember this.  you’re my best ******* friend, whether or not i fell for you.  if you never feel the same way i completely understand, i probably wouldn’t feel that way about me either.  whatever you do in life, i hope it makes you happy.  i hope good things come your way, and i hope everything works out for you in the end.  you deserve nothing less than perfection, so don’t ever settle for anything.  
keep in mind that i’m going to be here every second of everyday, most likely thinking about you and hoping you’ll be doing the same about me.  i’m never going to forget you, and i pray almost every night that you’ll never forget me.  you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  you’re the reason that i’m typing this right now, actually, because if it wasn’t for you i’d be in a casket buried six feet under.
always remember that i love you and i always will, whether you’re here or not.
now is a good time to put my knowledge of pierce the veil lyrics to use.
so, in a literal sense…
without you, there is no me.
995 · Mar 2014
eleanor rigby
frankie crognale Mar 2014
"look at all the lonely people"
i waltzed into the desolate church on the corner of a street in a town i didn't know the name of.  i've turned into one of those people who spends time in cathedrals on their days off in towns i've never heard of, due to loneliness, mostly.  to my surprise, there was a young lady halfway sitting and halfway standing in a pew next to a stained glass window. her breathing was heavy, i could hear her across the room.  she had a somewhat horrified expression on her face, which was pale and almost ghostly.  she looked so dejected, it was absolutely heart-rendering. once i took a step towards her, the priest of the old church appeared and told her she had to leave her sad state and her pew next to the stained glass window. her melancholy expression remained as she walked slowly out of the church, letting the wooden door slam behind her, never once looking up at me or the priest. he took his place in the exact same spot this young girl was in, and began to write words in a small leather journal with a quill pen. i turned around and left, and decided to come back at the exact same time i did the next day, in hopes to relive the past few moments.
as promised, i promenaded down the center aisle of the pews in the church, the carpet crackling under my feet, due to old age, adding to the sense of eeriness that lurked through the establishment.  the young girl was not there. i sat in the pew she sat in the day prior, in hopes of her walking in once more.  i waited for hours, and she did not show.  i faintly heard the sound of a violin just as the priest walked through a door near the altar.  his hands were covered in dirt, and i was curious.  i approached him.
"hello, father. might i ask why your hands are so *****?"
"ah. you're the man from yesterday." he said, a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.
"yes, that is correct."
"you seemed to be quite fascinated by miss eleanor." it's almost as if he knew how intrigued i was by her, although i didn't know her name until now.
"eleanor? the lass from the day prior?"
"indeed. well, it upsets me to break this news to you, but my hands are battered with dirt because i've just come back from burying miss rigby in the cemetery."
"you mean there was no formal ceremony to celebrate her life? what is the matter with you?! how did she die?"
the priest looked me dead in the eye, and spoke the chilling words in a completely monotone voice.
"she was one of the lonely people."
frankie crognale Dec 2014
poverty has been a persistent problem all throughout the world for more than one reason.  it can be passed down, but in some instances it can be brought upon somebody because of a loss of a job or a mental illness.  i almost got emotional when i was listening to/watching the presentation, as i could never imagine living that way.  we take so much for granted.  knowing we can type this blog post from the comfort of our home on our macbooks or hp laptops is so overlooked because we've been graced with this technology since the beginning of our time.  we wouldn't be writing this blog post on our macbooks if we weren't in school, which to us is a necessity.  i just spelled necessity wrong, but my imac autocorrected it for me.  people living below the poverty line don't have autocorrect to tell them when they've messed something up.  they can't go to school to learn how to spell necessity, because they can't afford it.  i just drove my bmw to dunkin' donuts to grab some free coffee with an app on my iphone 6 and eat some $1.69 hash browns that my mom gave me some spare change for.  if you're below the poverty line, none of that would be in your agenda. an extra 5 dollar bill wouldn't just be laying around to go waste on something you honestly don't need.  it could be going towards the food you'll be eating for the next week or a new shirt because you outgrew the single one that you owned previously. i know personally, i get angry when i don't have enough gas in my car to get me somewhere that i honestly don't have to go to, or when i spend the last few dollars of my paycheck on an overpriced drink at Starbucks.  i will be the first to admit that i am absolutely, completely, 100% spoiled rotten but i am more than lucky to be able to get an education, have a job that i love and look forward to going to, and have a family that would give me the world if they could.  when you have family, you will always make it through.  none of us have any idea how good we have it, and i think it's about time we realize how lucky we are to live in the country we do.
this was a reflective blog post on an economics project we all had to do on the world's biggest problems; this is the one i wrote about the poverty presentation. (i got an a just in case you were wondering)
953 · Dec 2013
pacific ocean eyes
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i see you whenever i close my eyes,
so i blink a little longer,
and maybe a little more often,
just so i can see
your beautiful face
with those pacific ocean eyes
flash before mine
whenever i’d like.
912 · Jan 2014
frankie crognale Jan 2014
do you ever feel worthless?
everyone has a bad day every now and again, that's perfectly normal. but it's the days where you can somehow feel everyone around you constantly judging you. in complete silence. supposedly without you knowing.
but you know.
you know their silence just as well as their voices.
the comparisons they make of you, to your peers. your closest friends. your family.
the "perfect" ones.
and then there's you.
you alone, standing right in front of everyone, waiting for a reason to continue the short yet steady inhales and exhales of oxygen into your lungs.
you haven't found it yet.
the people standing in front of you are waiting for you to find that reason for yourself. it's expected of you to know exactly why you're placed on this planet when you're in high school, sometimes even before that. with no help from anyone at all.  
it's a bit difficult to figure out exactly who you currently are, who you want to be, who you could be, who you should be, but most importantly who you will be, when there is nobody to light your lantern through the cave you have to trudge through to get there.
in addition to that, as the one being judged, it's just as terrible to have to sit there and take it like absolutely nothing is wrong.  to stand in front of these ******* and continue inhaling and exhaling like you suddenly have some sort of purpose to continue to do so.  making it appear as if their criticisms and comparisons don't make you want to down that bottle of pills you have laying under your bed.
continue putting on the front that you are just fine, that there isn't a raging crater of fiery anxiety in the pit of your stomach where normally nothing except complete emptiness sits.
extinguishing the fire inside of you is easier said than done.
and most of the time, it's a lot easier to let yourself become engulfed in flames.
901 · Jan 2014
frankie crognale Jan 2014
our love was like a wire.

you bent it until it almost broke, but eventually when you got tired, you gave up and readjusted it back to how it started.  however, there were still minor dents in it.  the dents were overlooked, and things were normal again. you took the wire and put it in the back pocket of your black skinny jeans and walked around with it for a few days, only leaving it there for it to keep getting contorted, all under your control. you forgot about it, and didn't give it as much attention as you thought you did. when you were sick of the wire digging into your body, you got rid of it. you twisted it until it's weakness got the best of it.  you bent the wire until you broke it.  

what you don't know, is that i was on the other side of the wire. as you stretched and coiled every last bit of flexibility that now small and frail wire had, you did the same to me.
it's been lovely knowing you.
but you broke the wire.
frankie crognale Mar 2015
i want to kiss you until your lips are raw
your mind is so beautiful and i long for it
i never dreamed of having someone like you with me
but now that you're here i want you to stay
a series of ten word stories
frankie crognale Mar 2015
i think of the romantics as the hippies of society. not that there's anything wrong with sitting in a VW van in a field of sunflowers listening to the Beatles and smoking blunts all day and night, im totally the advocate for that, but is that all there is? there's so much more, and it isn't all sunshine and rainbows like they teach you in kindergarten, and that's one of the biggest problems with the education systems throughout the world these days. we're sheltered. we're sheltered to no end. what would the kid that didn't know anything about police brutality or a drug cartel do the first time when he was ready to emerge into the real world? he would ******* **** himself because he was sheltered. and then the mental illness factor comes in, what would his friends do? they'd never been exposed to that, they didn't even know such a thing was possible. because they were sheltered. maybe the kids in his neighborhood would begin to get the same thoughts and **** themselves too because they thought they were ******* crazy for thinking the way they were because nobody ever told them that mental illnesses are nothing to be ashamed of and they're treatable and they don't make you a bad person. what makes someone a bad person is lying to someone by telling them everything will always be okay, because everything won't always be okay. and that's realism.
852 · Jan 2014
tumblr rant
frankie crognale Jan 2014
i never knew missing someone could hurt this much, and i shouldn’t even miss you, since you’re still standing right in front of me. i just don’t want you to waste all the best of you in drama and i think it’s just that i miss the drama free-not infatuated with other girls-same old you and it ******* *****. that awful feeling in my stomach is the contradictory emptiness that i spill my ink to all the time, it’s so overwhelming that i want to reach down my throat and grab my small intestine so it will burst and hopefully engorge me with something more pleasant than complete destitution.
frankie crognale Dec 2013
I literally feel like I'm drowning. I'm being swallowed whole by a sea of negative thoughts and feelings and there's no possible way to swim to shore.
I'm completely misunderstood, even more so than AP calculus. Everything has just shredded right before my very eyes and I'm supposed to sit here and act as though nothing ever even happened.
The saying "I'm fine." has gotten so disgusting to the point where every time I so much as utter the words from my mouth in just the smallest whimper I can possibly make I begin to feel sick in all aspects of my tired body.
The beads of dried blood on my small boney wrists have reminded me that I am the weakest link. I have no purpose left in the world. It's spelled right there in front of me. Carved into my flesh like a tattoo.
Reaching for the bottle of pills is the most fulfilling thing considering I know now that everything would soon be over. The cap is rough and so are my fingers.
One, two, three, four, five.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Forty three, forty four, forty five..
811 · Mar 2014
frankie crognale Mar 2014
we are the sun and the moon.
forever longing for one another yet destined to be apart.

we know the other one is there,
but we could never be together.

we can't see eye to eye
or face to face,
even though its well known
our minds interlock
like your rays into my beams.

it's somewhat tragic to know
that the only way for me to be seen is for you to go away;

but on the other hand,
it's somewhat beautiful
that i can only exist
because of you.
795 · Feb 2014
february 4th, 2014
frankie crognale Feb 2014
i'm losing my best friend to a completely shallow cold hearted gripe who isn't worth anyone's time.
and it's eating away at me more than the maggots that have begun to appear inside my slowly withering soul.
my greatest fear is showing it's ugly face again - the fear of being forgotten.
athazagoraphobia- the fear of being forgotten or replaced.
forgotten. replaced.
you said you'd be there for me.
but you're going to forget me like all the other ******* did. you're going to get rid of me like every other person who has ever actually meant something to me.
you were no different.
you were the exact same.
you're just another page in my journal now.
779 · Jan 2014
those last few days
frankie crognale Jan 2014
the last few days of that last year were the last i'd feel the way i did about you.  
this past year has been a struggle because of your wretched absence, however there are new opportunities for the both of us.  your life will go on, and so will mine.  i don't really know why this doesn't hurt, since i feel like it should.  maybe we really weren't meant for each other.  it's hard to tell now, and i'd rather not think about it.  i know it will make me miss you.
now looking at the emotional scars you left me i wonder why i ever let you get to me that much.  the spirit inside me would normally never let someone as beautiful and charming as you get to it.  however, now that you are "gone", so to speak, you truly are a thing of my past.  your pacific ocean eyes aren't as blue as i thought they were.  the pacific ocean isn't as crystal clear as i'd made it out to be.  the atlas of this journey you've taken me on is nothing but one long, twisted road.  difficult to maneuver through, and pretty ******* confusing.  the changing of the last digit of the year is going to bring changes in you, in me, in everything.  i loved you, or at least i thought i did.  you taught me a lot.  i  appreciate all you've done for me. metaphorically, you were the only light i thought i had, but now, i'm basking in the sunlight.
2013, thank you for everything you've taught me.  seeing you leave is bittersweet, but i'm prepared for all 2014 has in store.
"don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."
frankie crognale Feb 2014
january 11th, 2014
i feel like i'm getting bad again.  my head constantly hurts from all the thoughts i have going through it. my mind simply won't stop racing, i think it's because i miss you, but i'm not sure. it's hard to say. write again soon, promise.

january 20th, 2014
i'm getting bad again. i think they're worried about me. i told them about how i missed you. they said to try to forget about you, but forgetting your best friend and your first love is hard to do. i've been biting my fingers to the bone to try to keep myself from thinking of you. it hasn't been working. write again soon, promise.

january 24th, 2014
i'm bad again. i miss you. you told me not to worry about you, that you're doing just fine. but she's going to hurt you. i know she is. the nausea this is causing me is something i didn't know I was capable of feeling. it's honestly terrifying to know your body can put these kinds of ailments upon you all because of a gut feeling you have. write again soon, promise.

january 28th, 2014
i'm over the edge. she kissed you and hurt you. her lips were like daggers against yours and she ended up stabbing you, just like i said she would. but you didn't listen. write again soon, promise.

january 31st, 2014
i don't know where i am. you're sad and so am i. my empathy is unnatural. i feel your vibes from 3,800 miles across the ocean. i miss you. it's hard to keep a grip on this pen with the blood lubricating my fingers. don't know when to write again, might be soon, might be later, but i'll try, promise.

february 2nd, 2014
i'm sorry for the blood on the paper, it's not easy to control it when it's constantly pouring out of the self inflicted wounds that for some reason they've refused to patch up. i told you she was wrong for you. i knew that you'd be leaving and i knew you'd find someone else but i thought you'd be smarter than this. try to hold the pen soon, promise.

february 4th, 2014
i can't stop shaking, i didn't think you'd get to me this much. my vomiting is uncontrollable, even though there's nothing left in my body to throw up. my veins are exhausted from me constantly prying them open with the same pair of scissors you once took away from me. i told you she wasn't right for you. i told you what would happen. you knew this is how it would end up. my selfishness has taken over and convoluted compassion for you is no longer there. you did this to me because you were never there and you won't ever be. you knew how much i thought i loved you and you know how well i take these things. but my feelings don't matter, they never did. you said you'd be there for me but you weren't anymore after you met her. she changed you for the worst. i can't even fathom to say goodbye to you, so i'll leave you with a final story, since you love them so much.
"i'll sit here in my hospital bed in this gown they've dressed me in that's stained with lines and spatters of blood and smoke my cigarette and think of you as my last thought before i go. sorry to worry you. goodbye, my dear."
last time i'll write, promise.
distraught, teary eyed out of context memoirs are my favorite
718 · Dec 2013
frankie crognale Dec 2013
hollow out the demons
that are ripping up your skin
let them be free
they’re only bothersome
banish them
make them no more
for you’re better than your demons
don’t let them tear you to shreds
eliminate the negative entities
tell them to *******
they don’t compare to you
you have a voice
you have a reason
you’re better than the demons
don’t let them control you
you’re yourself, you aren’t them
all it takes is
one phrase
two words
three syllables
“go away”
simple as that
your demons are gone.
710 · Jan 2014
frankie crognale Jan 2014
basic and not thought out for too long. just something I threw together
668 · Feb 2014
fatal rendezvous
frankie crognale Feb 2014
to be quite frank,
it's terrifying
to know
while you're rendezvousing
with your latest infatuation
i feel as though i must
make my wrists
rendezvous with blades
to fulfill the infatuation
you must feel.
simply thoughts. i'm a bit scared.
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i really don't know anymore.
these feelings lately have consumed me and put me in the mindset that all i'm doing to myself is simply screaming deeper and deeper into the depths of the ignorant darkness.  nobody can hear me. the louder my screams become, the more engulfed i become in the sea of eternal darkness, the sea of eternal darkness that has no shoreline. the sea of eternal darkness that no ocean liner dares to trek across.  screams can't be heard from the bottom of the ocean.  the ocean doesn't know it's swallowing you. the darkness doesn't know you want to let the light in.
wake up wake up wake up wake up
my body aches my head hurts my hands have blood on them
my legs are shaking my torso is cut a little bit too deep
my eyes are bloodshot my heart is at my feet
why did this happen why did it happen to me why did you do it why why why why
why did you have to hurt me why did you have to send that bullet straight through my ******* heart why did you have to make me feel worthless
who are you why did you have to do this to me
the sun isn't shining any longer my life is almo
i purposefully cut out early, i didn't finish the last sentence as a cliff hanger xxxx
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i still wish i'd had one more chance to see you. you and your mesmerizing pacific ocean eyes. i wish i'd got the chance to sit in the gravel with you at dusk; just to simply talk about anything and everything and enjoy each other's company. the feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach has been present for as long as i can remember, all because i miss you. i've been sitting on the gravel alone, thinking of the plans we once dreamed up. looking at the sunset through the trees only makes me want you more. the fireflies that dance around my nostalgic head don't know you're missing from my picture. they don't know how terrible it is to need someone like i need you. we can't feel for the fireflies, but i always wonder if they can feel for us. do they light up the night to show us the way through our darkness? can they tell we feel empty? can they tell when we miss someone? do they know what love is? sometimes i like to think i'm a firefly. when i'm a firefly, i fly the 3,800 miles across the pond to you. i fly across the big atlantic ocean just to see those gorgeous pacific ocean eyes staring back at me. even if i was a firefly, or even if i wasn't, rather, they make me light up either way.
frankie crognale Feb 2015
My family is absolutely ridiculous.  Every single time we have a family gathering, it always somehow results in everyone sitting around the table absolutely heated over political issues and everything that’s wrong with the government.  They’re all disgustingly republican.  It’s almost painful to listen to their views on certain things.  I’m the only person in my entire extended family (that I know of) that is more on the moderate/liberal side.  From what I’ve gathered, moderates/liberals are more of the younger crowd of people, because now that the older generation that was shamefully conservative is becoming scarcer and scarcer, some people are beginning to wake up.  They're also more of the "artistic", open-minded, down to earth humans, which is what I consider myself to be. I feel as though I've been shaped into who I am today because of the people I've associated with, the media, blogging, and just simply opening my eyes to what the world really is. We have a choice as human beings on whether or not we want to see the world as what it is, or the world with a filter over top of it, so we don't really see it for what it really is. Some may argue it's the "romanticism vs. realism", or at least I would. I learned that from one of my ex boyfriends, which was sort of the turning point in my views of the world. His name was Stefan, and he lived in England. I don't think that's even a real relationship, but he definitely helped me realize some stuff, although I already had fairly strong views on certain things already. One of those being the debate on same *** marriage. This hits very close to home for me, in far more ways than one, and is probably one of the things I dispute over most with people. I won't get into it completely here, but I am 10,000,000,000% for it. Just as same *** marriage, I have very strong feelings about self expression. It is our first amendment right to freedom of expression, and in school we are violated of that.  I couldn't imagine having to go to school with my hair in a bun, no makeup on, no more than one piercing in each ear, no ****** piercings, no nail polish, etc. To me, that is a violation of your first amendment right, let alone having it go against everything I believe in. This is why I'm so eager to move to New York City; where I can look however I want to and attend as many protests as I want and create as much art as humanly possible. Until the day the rest of America wakes up, the early risers will continue to brew the coffee in hopes one day the sleepyheads will smell how wonderful it is.
this is an assignment for my american government class expressing my "political personality".
647 · Feb 2014
frankie crognale Feb 2014
tonight is one of those nights here you can feel your own heart beating.
where you lay on your bed and wonder why you're still here.  why you're so still, how you continue to breathe, how your flesh is still somehow loosely pinned onto your bones, how your hair hasn't all fallen out yet or how your fingers move quickly enough to write the words you're thinking. it's one of those nights where you constantly ponder the dreaded thought of being forgotten. of being replaced.  it's when you think of your future and what it might hold for you. where you conjure up scenarios you want to happen, even though they probably never will.
where you miss people.
where you dream a little too big.
where you have small hopes to conquer the big dreams.
where you think of what you'll have for lunch tomorrow.
where you listen to music and sing the lyrics out loud.
where you cuddle your pillow, because you don't know if you're broken or put together.
where you're lonely.
all because of a heart beat.
and tonight is one of those nights.
638 · Dec 2013
the back of my notebook
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i miss you
going home at night isn't the same
you literally meant the world to be
but you obviously can't see that
the other ones don't make me feel the same
because they aren't you
i never even got to call you mine
and that's what hurts the most
you're lovely
but i'm average
i wish you could make someone fall in love with you
because technically they made you fall in love with them
i'm sorry for the rant
you don't have to read anymore
i miss you
573 · Dec 2013
my wish
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i took her to strawberry hill in her black trench coat and black combat boots. it was about 4:00, nearing darkness because of the changing of the seasons. i asked her to sit down in the day old snow. she hit the ground, and i dropped right next to her. a chill arose in the air as the breeze blew. her long brown hair brushed my eyes and her hand traveled to mine; interlacing the spaces between her fingers with mine. her head dropped onto my shoulder, as mine dropped to hers. i looked down and gave her a small peck on her head. she smelled of a midnight musk, which she knew i loved. i noticed she had tears in her eyes, as I noticed a few had rolled down her beautiful face when i pressed my lips against her soft hair. i had no reason to believe she was upset about being there, so i asked her why she was feeling down. she uttered the most lovely words i'd ever heard her speak.
"i missed you so much, you're my best friend and i love you."
the things that happened over the course of the past few months have been a whirlwind of emotions, but filled with pure bliss. i met her in the ninth grade. at the very end of the school year she started talking to me, asked for my phone number, and history was made. she became my best friend, and the first friend i made at this school. she soon told me how i made her feel, how she felt about me, and what she hoped I'd feel towards her. i didn't feel it at first, but once i stepped off the escalator in the airport and saw her standing there waiting for me, i couldn't help myself. I always had feelings for her. i just never knew it. i held her hand as hard as i could as we walked across the clear catwalk, glancing at rooftops occasionally, otherwise we were focused on each other. it's almost as if we both knew it was going to happen, but seeing her once more validated the feeling.
"i love you too. i'm sorry for everything i once said to you, please never let me go." i pleaded, for i needed to hear her a little more.
"dear, i wouldn't dream of it."
i simply couldn't contain it, my lips traveled to hers, more eagerly than they ever had. it was like a scene in a movie. it was the type of kiss where teeth collide, and bodies press as they fall backward. it was perfect. she was perfect, perfect for me, perfect to me. i dream about her every night, and think about her everyday. i missed her so much it was physically painful. she's just so lovely.
i cried so much as i wrote this. the setting was inspired by coldplay's song "violet hill", and is about the one i love. he doesn't love me, but this is my wish, what maybe someday will happen. just a bit of wishful thinking.
frankie crognale Mar 2015
i cannot wait for the older generations to die off and as awful as that sounds im so sick of being consistently judged for who i love or what i believe in and what i do in my free time, being told im going nowhere in life because i failed a math test is not how to go about a future in an art field and i swear if someone who is not an artist tells me or any other artist we will not make it in an art field one more time i will take it upon myself to produce the most beautiful art possible and shove it down every unartistic egotistical *******'s throat until every inch of their insides is as colorful as a cubic centimeter of my mind is
546 · Dec 2013
the new year
frankie crognale Dec 2013
I’ve already promised myself that nothing will stop me from being exactly who I want to be in 2014, as cliche as it sounds. fake friends and drama can kiss my *** because there is no need for the added stress. I’m going to make my grades better than they already are and hopefully pull myself up to at least a 3.2 GPA. I’m going to get into college when the time comes and I’m going to actually get somewhere in the world. a few months ago if you were to ask me what I wanted to do, I’d say I had no idea. but recently I’ve found the drive inside myself to make something of this thing we’re living called “life”. I refuse to live under anyone else’s standards. I will not live to please anyone else except myself. it sounds so selfish, it really does, but really, the only satisfaction a human being needs is the satisfaction of one’s self. nobody can expect another person to make another one happy, it just doesn’t happen that way. so starting tonight at 12:00, I am going to be focusing on me and my own life, rather than everyone else’s.
frankie crognale Dec 2013
earlier today
at 2:27 am
i decided i missed you
maybe a little more than i should

earlier today
at 9:46 am
i thought of you again
i still missed you

earlier today
at 4:13 pm
i had another thought of you
this time, pure nostalgia

it's currently 6:46 pm
and i still miss you
frankie crognale Nov 2014
there's way too much love inside me for people who don't deserve it  not one ******* bit do you understand what it feels like to know what you've done for someone and then have them step on your heart like you're a sidewalk i thought being walked on with stilettos would hurt the most but it turns out tie dye vans are the real killers i was walked on until i went completely numb all of me is numb everything is darker than i expected it to be i guess that's what happens when you have the dirt from the bottom of those tie dye vans stuck in your eyes now all i can do is use what's left of my hearing to listen to your favorite songs over and over even though you never told me what they were not even after i asked you what does it matter anyway i'm just a ******* sidewalk sidewalks don't breathe our lungs are too full of the gravel and leaves the people who walk on top of us kick around sidewalks don't cry we let the rain do it for us sidewalks don't have hearts and even if they did why would it matter anyway i was your ******* sidewalk to get to her i made sure to crack in some spots to make it harder to get to her but you're much smarter than some stupid ******* crack you figured your way around it in the most beautiful way possible and god ****** i wish i tried a little harder but now i'll just be stuck here with your dirt in my eyes and your gravel in my lungs and your tie dye vans all over my pathetic little heart
496 · Feb 2014
my train of thought crashed
frankie crognale Feb 2014
sometimes i wonder what it’d be like if i stopped being the disgustingly kind person that i currently am.  then when i try to discontinue it, i realize that i’m far too weak to do anything so drastic.  i’ve had this revelation recently that nobody honestly and truly appreciates this “kindness”; most of the time it just goes unnoticed because it really doesn’t matter that much.  yes, i know the cliches of it, where even if no one is watching you, you should still be kind and courteous of others.
bull ******* ****.
when i’m alone, i could care less about how you ******* feel.  it’s not weighing me down, it’s not my
i was going somewhere with this but i don’t know where i was going.
how’s your day going, dear?
i was venting in first period and stopped mid-sentence because the bell rang. i opened up my google documents and saw this sitting there, and decided not to leave it unfinished.
493 · Nov 2014
10:34 pm
frankie crognale Nov 2014
looking at you makes me feel so ******* sick but i would rather feel nausea because of you than nothing at all
490 · Apr 2014
the game
frankie crognale Apr 2014
life is nothing but a huge game of cards.  the drawing pile is a new chance, and the discard pile bunch of stale second chances that were once taken. the cards you have in your hand are what you currently posses, and you most likely are not happy with the order they've come to you in.  when someone asks for one of your cards, despite not enjoying yourself with it, you're hesitant to give away your card, as if you've grown attached to the way the cards laid out in front of you are arranged.  if you gave it away, everything would be a little bit off balance, and it might take you a while to readjust yourself to the new card. once you finally do give it away, you realize you made the wrong decision.  you figure that if you rearrange your set of cards completely, you could begin forming a new norm, and be on your way to winning the game.  you frantically begin giving your cards away to the other players and keep drawing cards from the pile of new chances. somewhere along the way you lost yourself in the game, and all your cards disappeared, and just like that, the game is over.
481 · Apr 2014
two and two
frankie crognale Apr 2014
the idea of us having two ears, two eyes, two arms and two legs but only one heart so we can find the other one is a beautiful concept. but what if you never find your matching heart? what if your second half dies or is impaired so they cannot venture to find you? the same goes for the mouth, what if the set of lips you've chosen to kiss for eternity are only good for kissing, and not for speaking? how will you ever know they love you?
470 · Mar 2014
emily dickinson inspired
frankie crognale Mar 2014
the taste of demise is in the back of my throat. it's stale and frigid. the coldness of the sweat dripping down my face makes me shudder. is this it? i know i'm still alive, for i can stand. the dead are unable to stand. the dead lay down in caskets. the living stand upright.
unless they're on the cusp.
what is one to do if you're standing with a hunched back? are you dead or alive?
this beautiful dress that's wrapped around my frail bones is the only thing keeping me warm in such an outbreak of chills. maybe i really am passing, for i am closer to the ground. my mind is becoming a psychological shipwreck, i can't bear to stay grounded. my heart is weak and my legs are shaky. my eyes aren't staying open. maybe that's what happens when you die. it's almost like a trance. it's an altered state of consciousness. you're halfway evolved, but not fully. you don't really know where you are. you're here, but you're not. what scares me most is that i know my fate. i know what lies ahead. the dreaded fate of being forgotten. when you die, you lose everything. people who once cared so much will eventually dry their tears. i'll be nothing but a memory.
i can no longer stand.
i am nothing.
463 · Apr 2014
frankie crognale Apr 2014
i kind of like this typing in all caps thing
frankie crognale Dec 2013
i was blind.  blinded by single sided affection.  simply living in a state of dreaming, and that silly state of dreaming kept me up on a cloud far too long.  now, it's time to go back to reality.  you don't want me, i know that.  floating on sweet nothings isn't how i want to live anymore.  as hard as i'm trying to keep these tears from falling from my eyes, i just can't help them.  i loved you, or at least i thought i did.  but my dream is over, i'm awake again.
431 · Oct 2015
frankie crognale Oct 2015
you've always been the hand on my throat that restricted me from breathing but you were so beautiful while you did it that i forgot about your hand around my neck and got my breath taken for a completely different reason
422 · Dec 2013
wake up
frankie crognale Dec 2013
I decided
to lay my
head down
for just
a little while

in hopes you'd
be there
sitting across
from me
once again.

I brushed
the slumber
away from
my weary
eyes, only
to reveal
you were
not there.

my thoughts
of you,
screaming for
you, hoping
that your
thoughts are
about me
Next page