Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2017 Little Wren
Onoma
Wounds heal like
hell frozen over--
abstracted blood
never blends in
with the territory
fast enough.
Your long, sharp,
superintelligent
fingernails stake
their claim.
Always repeating:
'oh you poor thing'...
while picking away.
 Apr 2017 Little Wren
abby
sparks
 Apr 2017 Little Wren
abby
In this moment all I can possibly wonder is the way I will remember you,
Will I remember the sweat on your bottom lip, like thumb tacks puncturing a map,
Puncturing the places I would like to visit;

Or will I remember the way your eyes look in sunlight,
Iridescent and blue like the sea the day after a storm.
Except you are not a reflection of something else.
You have not shriveled up and died,
Or reserected yourself from your most sinuous nightmare.

I always wanted to take you apart ; leave your fragments to sun dry.

That is the silver barrier that separates us,
I am wasted potential, a sick twisted mind, I will spit in your mouth and smile.
I have been thrown to the vultures,
And although I clawed my way out,
Something inside of me has died.
A candle has burned out;
And then there’s you.
And you light up the sky with sparks,
And set my whole world ablaze.

We are burning,
Burning down the cities and engulfing the towns,
Swamping the planet with embers.
We are a flood of inferno,
A glittering holocaust.

I have loved before, and that was much softer,
It’s different when you don’t know how bad it hurts. I could write a book about all the different places in my body I felt heartbreak.

I wonder if I will always carry this flame with me. I could keep my heart in my pocket, leave my memories in the photo frames and card board boxes.

Oh dear,
If only it was that easy.
Why do I lay my burdens down only to go and pick them up again
I have recently been facing some prolonged medical issues.
 Jan 2017 Little Wren
Graff1980
Do not wait for me.
As troubling as it may seem
I babble on
breaking brooks
in my stone laden
dreams.

Do not stop
or slow a step behind.
Please proceed.
I hope you find
the peace of mind
that eludes me.

Do not carry me
when I fall.
For I am far to broken
and each shard
of my being
is a dangerous thing
made of
silver and sterling
nighttime daydreams.

Do not worry,
I was in no hurry.
While you rushed into
the death you thought you knew
I stayed behind
to enjoy this time of mine.

Do not look back.
Fear finds its own facts
and sadly I lack
that spark which knows eternity.
Unfortunately, there is only me
here in the moment
on my mud rock
that pirouettes space.

Do not stop.
Go on and rush to death
because heaven or hell
awaits your final breath.
I don’t mind
keeping my heaven and hell here.
Whilst you wither and disappear
I’ll enjoy the crystal clear
running water,
the clean skies,
the beautiful animals
that you cannot take with you
when you die.

Do not worry one bit.
I got this.
Just go on my dear
I’ll rest right here
because this is such
a sweet and wonderful
but one time only life.
one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll let you in the front door
and we’ll sit and talk about the way time passes
faster for me since the day
you walked out the threshold

some day i’ll have to dig up the promises
we have buried in these backyards

once when i was nine i popped a red balloon
and out came my seven-year-old self’s seventh birthday wish
wrapped in unsigned birthday cards
(the ninety-nine cent kind)
and two-ply kleenexes

i had trouble blowing out the candles and that’s when I heard,
“hey, dandelion mouth
you know wishes are better left alone”

i cried so much that year
2009, the rolling snowball
i, dandelion mouth, became the blockade
i became to stoppage

and sometimes i had trouble running so every now and again someone said,
“you ought to just let the sky hit you and call it a day because
we’re all made of rain anyway”

from then on I realized
i’m not the softest girl you’ll ever get to touch
but we both knew that from the get go

i’m just hoping to treat you gentle enough to make you want to stay
for a while
sit down
have some coffee
cream & sugar
we aren’t all made of rose petals and hallmark cards
you know that better than i
the concept of perfection isn’t an entirely insane idea
but it’s sure close

you might meet the rain the same way you do me
with open arms and a cold shoulder
try to catch the words on your tongue
it won’t always be sunny
sometimes the rain will rust the things you treasure most
but it’s okay
we’re all made of it anyway

one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll remind myself not to let the leaks show through
because after all
it’s just time slipping through the cracks
a reminder of all the blown out candles
of all the unsigned hallmark cards

it’s just the rain
and besides
we’re all made of it anyway
 Dec 2016 Little Wren
Colm
If the blindingly cold winters of the north, could say just one thing to her in part.
It would be that she, a southern belle, knew not of the warmth of this gentleman's heart.
Short sweet and to the point. Written on the road with headphones. Safety first.
Next page