Illusions of skydiving in a kimono
are not nightmares that awaken her in a sweat each night Fantasies of floating like a drone creep into morning daydreams Unprepared for make-believe no kimono hangs in her closet Each day she stands in front of her full-length mirror stares at perceived imperfections as they thicken before her eyes Friends don’t notice each misplaced mole or cellulite pleading to hide from any audience Co-workers notice her post-it-note headline “Intelligent Perfect Women Skydives in Kimono” affixed to the cubicle wall Today results of her search for kimonos of various colors is carefully placed in a folder entitled skydiving
My wife wonders where the idea for this poem came from. My answer - I have no idea.
Nimbostratus clouds overcast
Overcast tears Crying, crying all day, all night Sad girl Bad girl Dead to the world Done with death itself Staring into the blue and black sky Reminds me of my stained skin Reminds me of the palette I use to paint Nothing is the same Nothing is getting better Staring staring staring Digital phone calls In real life conversations **** Bill Volume Two Better than my life So I sit in the parlor Eat my skin Dance in the rain outside Let my body bleed Let the rain poison my blood My heart will **** me anyway Watch it all play out None of this is really true It's all inside my head It's all just make believe Because you see I'm sick I'm really sick I have been since the day Mom pushed me out I've got daydream fever And this world is not my own
© Kelsey Austere, 2016
I play make-believe nowadays, pretend that I'm not alive. It's the only way I know how not to fear death.
The worst way to lose somebody is to be, in his heart, ordinary; to be his luxury turned duty.
And the things he do, he does them to keep up with you, but not anymore to keep you. This is when you'll know you've lost him. This is when it will hurt. But only until this you'll know you've loved deeply. Your lips would blister with prayers for his return, but no poetry in the world could touch his soul and guide him back to your arms-- none unless the words are yours.* P.S. *You'll only truly lose him when you start to think that maybe after all, you've never truly loved him. And that is also when you'll lose yourself-- to your own make-believe.
Unsent Letters would now be my series.
the perfect mistake
doesn't come into your life as an ugly thing oh darling, it's like warm fire on a cold winter heating up your skin it's like finding this oasis in the desert quenching up your thirst it even comes as human presence on sadness candle in the dark the perfect mistake never regrets hurting you and will eat you whole it's thought-consuming like a passionate first kiss creating daydreams fulfilling wishes like shooting stars in the sky or is it your eyes? comes as a surprise the kind that leaves you breathless filling the spaces the perfect mistake won't come with horns and tail but as this boy you like
(c) maria allyssa
a haiku written in ten minutes
she is a
true pretender— the kind that never returns to the scene of the crime where reality was murdered
steeped in illusion and so electrifiedcrazy with infernal edges chafed against tinfoil stars bent and broken. they make believe that they are beautiful. unscrupulous people sharply disillusioned and so upandoutwild with rough edges filed smooth with makeup and glam but they're still bent and broken. they make believe that they are beautiful. understated words creating an illusion and so slipperysilverfleeting with dark corners coming alive under the pretense of fiction bent but not broken. they know that they are beautiful.
we all make believe.
I got to let go now
but not sure which way to go or which road to tread on when I know I still need you by my side to carry on. I've been pushing them away regret is all that's left to stay perhaps, I need some time to grow to bring back my lively glow 'cause I have thrown my days away. Somehow, I want to tell you much or make you feel my scorching touch my heart races as I see your face or even just upon hearing your name it doesn't really go away that fast. You left me waiting, wanting to be free but all you ever made me see I got no chance to feel true love all I deserve is some game of luck in your love, I'd be forever stuck. *I didn't mean to be so foolish I didn't dream to be enslaved In love, I've always been so stupid But my heart will always feel the same Yet time will come that we'll both come to know You'll have to regret your make-believe show Take your own pains away and let go Because I am not going to be there anymore.
— The End —