From time to time
I fall into a spell
usually influenced by a glass of poison
for the purpose of more smiles...
In-BetweenIn-between his sighs I look at the floor.In-Between by prettyflour
He does too.
It says a lot, don't you think?
We say it's love
but neither of us knows for sure.
In-between our fleeting eye contact
we quietly dwell
on the unspoken tension and insecurities.
We say it's just nerves.
It will pass,
but the silence stretches beyond what's comfortable.
In-between the untruths and unsaid;
our love a swaying complication.
We want it to work but…
Our chemistry heavier than a river rock.
IntroMy heart beat steady-Intro by prettyflour
softly behind my ribs.
The hardest working muscle in my body
and I hardly ever noticed it.
There was an ink-stained sky
swirling like a Van Gogh,
an angry sea raging
ready to swallow me whole.
I didn't bat an eyelash.
It was his hands on my skin,
fingertips haunting every nerve ending
sending my heart
into a cadence that made my chest pound.
My pulse was the snare
and his the kick drum pumping heavy bass.
Weaving a rhythm so simple,
so profound in its effect
Playing Dress-Up with RealityYou weren't easy for me. You were all the wrong words and too many missed chances and I couldn't breathe around you. Not really. Not in the ways it mattered. And maybe that was the real problem, at first--you stole the oxygen from my lungs and I couldn't think when you came around. So I didn't. I just stopped. I stopped the breathing, and I stopped the thinking, and when it finally came down to it, I think maybe I was starting to stop the caring, too.Playing Dress-Up with Reality by prettyflour
You were so different from me. You were an adventure, an adrenaline rush, you made my heart spin dizzy. I fell so hard that I laughed--convinced this had to be love. Love runs amok, right? Love leaves you breathless and aching. That's what made my chest pound. Not lack of air but your need for me. Or was that my need for you?
You were difficult, darling. Every breath I stole around you smelled of chalkboard dust and brittle autumn leaves and I don't know how I ever thought not breathing was okay, because it wasn't. You were a cobra
................written in a frenzy and run-on................ by prettyflour
and exclamation points
used in rapid succession
words all blurred
so bare bones it's bloody
strung out and on display
in a frightening combination
of paragraphs and stanzas
punctuation gone mad
ellipses my new black
used and abused
then spit out
in gratuitous repetition
there is no word count here
no hearts dotting the i's
just a string of letters
done up in cursive
but not very pretty at all
|From my Featured Gallery!|
The Lady SummerIn the centre of the wheat-sea
stood the incarnate joy.
Wild flowers crowned her.
You can't see more beautiful.
They refer to her just as a season.
But my friend, they are wrong.
Those people can't see over their problems,
Can't feel the wind,
Smell the flowers,
Can't hear the birds
As they praise her over and over.
In the centre of the wheat-sea
Stood the Lady Summer.
Her friend the Sun was setting,
Saying good night to the earth.
Her golden hair swept over
Hundreds of villages,
For the wise Summer knew
The world needed her kindness.
Hook, Line and SinkerI dreamt of a girl beyond the water. Above the green glass sea, she dangled her feet, threw out her gaze to ripple along the surface, and waited. Her words fell like fishing lines, diving and cutting through the mosaics of blues and greens, slipping under my skin as hooks. Her tongue was a reel, tugging me faintly upwards, flying through fluid blurs and crashing into a planisphere of ivory laced clouds, golden sands, a pair of mahogany eyes. It’s funny, how falling in love with her was just like drowning in air, feeling gills shiver and water drip, the distant cries of seagulls reminding me how vulnerable I am this side of the glass. Falling in love with her was just like leaping upstream, tumbling into the dark branches of mangrove trees and seeing their roots, my branches, splinter through the horizon.
And she embraced me like a fishing net, fingers coarse as rope. Between her tightly circled arms, I saw squares of the night sky, slivers of stars and somehow I could almost conv
Those ThursdaysWhat about those thursday mornings
when you'd wake up and find your ribcage door
swung open again by the nightmares
with an owl nesting, and pecking at your heart muscle?
What about those thursday mornings
and having to fold your elbows around your knees
to stop yourself from losing anything important
as the mechanics shook and shook you
and the pain cracked you, bones and blisters?
What about those tuesday afternoons
when you hear that familiar sound that makes you cry,
that hissing noise that warns you of upcoming agony
and you can taste it in your mouth again, so familiar -
what about those tuesday afternoons
when you swallow your words and the drugs
to try and stop it from coming back
but it returns just the same and against your will
you hear yourself still breathing?
What about it?
What about those hazy sunday evenings
when the fine line between oh-god-make-it-stop
and please-god-let-it-end gets blurry somehow
and you don't remember how much you drank, or what?
What about those d
:: Mental Illumination ::Emotionally strong;
OrigamiYou made me paper cranes,
gave me birds that couldn't fly.
I tried to teach you origami,
but your hands were clumsy
and you preferred to cut than fold.
You stapled together pieces
with glaring metal stitches;
it wasn't art, but surgery
on something we both knew was dead.
in bleeding ink
scratched in the corners,
the words "hate" and "love,"
they always read the same to me
(however it was written.)
I tried to teach you how to fold a heart
to place your love inside.
"I love you" (deep) inside...
But your hands were clumsy,
and they crumpled each attempt.
So you made me birds to set me free,
but they couldnt fly.
They relied upon your love,
and like origami,
it was a sense, a skill,
an art you never learned - -
but not for lack of trying.
That flock I never dared to count,
oh, you would have made me more,
(one for every day we were together)
but I was running out of sky.
They were ugly and unlucky,
misshapen, crooked, broken,
BlasphemyHold your tongue, or I will.
The Prettiest StarShe touched the stone, and the stars fell down.
The world seemed to come crashing down with them, the storied tales in those fake glass stars tumbling and twirling, beautiful beacons that had brought faith to thousands; the whistling as they fell sounded like the cries of the newly hopeless.
The woman at the pedestal stood without a single twist of regret. Her posture was certain, her hands steady. Blood soaked her face, matching the crimson of her cloak as it billowed around her in the darkness, as the air filled with the white explosions of the stars around her, shattering as they sent glass splintering across the huge domed room.
"Seline, stop!" a red-haired woman screeched from the doorway, too late to stop her. She stumbled backward, shielding her eyes.
Bodies lay in the room around the pedestal Seline had just touched, broken. Their white capes were stained red, and their red-crossed shields lay shattered and abandoned. Seline's sword was stained with that blood, steaming in
HandwritingMy messy scribbles
with my ink pen
fill up the sheet
that cannot be
from the sloppiness
of my handwriting
that make the
seem like parts
of a 3-year-old's
is a sign
a notion of
and wild thoughts
of a vivid imagination
so, I don't care if you
understand or not
(but I will care about that
for my exams)
and I will scribble these words
like a creative inner child