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

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.
Kelsey Austere Jul 2016

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
Kill 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 kill 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
Rafael Melendez Jun 2016

I play make-believe nowadays, pretend that I'm not alive. It's the only way I know how not to fear death.

ji Mar 2016

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.
maria allyssa Dec 2015

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
Anabel Nov 2015

she is a
true pretender—
the kind that
never returns
to the scene
of the crime
where reality
was murdered

JDK Oct 2015

With enough vanity,
an actor can believe their own insincerities.

"Oh, I know it! Love, right? Someone who's in love?!"

(It's okay, a part of me always knew, (and a part of me was just pretending too.))
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