"Bellith, what does love feel like," A soft but firm voice asked, she was young maybe in her late teens. Her strawberry blonde locks rolled down to her shoulders, her eyes are a soft hazel. Under normal cuircumstances she'd be absolutely gorgeous, but there was a blankness on her face. That's just what happens when one is born with no emotions.

Bellith closed her book and looked to the slightly younger, a warm smile on her face.

"Rose, love is a warm feeling in your chest when you're around somebody. Naturally, you won't feel it all the time when your with them. Sometimes the warmth gets so strong that your face heats up too and your throat gets sore when you yell at them. Sometimes the warmth becomes hard and sharp, but that only when they feel the same way. Love is supporting each other when they need it. Love is hurting them even though you don't mean it. Love is like a fire that needs to be carefully tended, it can't grow too big or get too small. We can't add water unless we want it to become smaller, but if the love is real than it'll get back to the proper size," Bellith explained to Rose in the best way she could.

"How do you know what it's like," Rose asked.

A moment of silence passed over the two. Bellith felt the tears slowly rise in her eyes, yet a smile was on her face. She pulled Rose into a hug gently, taking in the little affection that the younger could give. It hurts like hell to not have your feelings reciprocated, but it hurts even more to not get the chance of love at all. Bellith let Rose out of the hug.

"It's because I feel it. I've felt it for so many years," Bellith answered.

"Do you like it," Rose asked.

"I like being in love more than anything," Bellith replied. Rose seemed perplexed.

"Doesn't it hurt sometimes," Rose questioned.

"It does, but it's worth it," Bellith said, "Why did you want to know?"

"For a moment, I was considering the possiblity. It seems absurd, but I wish to feel it," Rose answered.

"I wish you could feel it too," Bellith sighed.

I entered a 34-mile running race today

but stopped at mile 4.

An old ankle injury; swells

curl before the shore.

I ran back to the start

but the fire was green, guttering

so I limped in to The

Royal Oak country store. Chris,

a sweet man, his eyes, nearly

always blinking, never, in 2 hours, closed.

We talked of marathoners & thru

hikers. String Bean & The

Flying Scotsman. Heart attacks

& the many cavities of donut bears.

Poor, hard-off, donut bears. Turns out,

baiters snatch them from the factory,

fill their trucks sky high & dump

them up in the thick. Weeks

later, local townsfolk complain

of swollen-moody bears

their bloodshot eyes

& mouthfuls of rotting teeth.

The donut bears, tapping out

ride symbol jazz rhythms

on fogged up kitchen windows.

Somewhere, a tireless taxidermist.

I failed at running today, but shucks,

Chris & the donut bears

do not care.

Emptiness. Within my chest, engulfing me. I know that it’s a phase and this time will also pass but for now it’s just me, alone in this self-made prison of mine. I want someone to be here, to soothe me,to hold me, just to give me company; but there is no one here.

After a month of being content the space he left in me is apparent. It hasn’t been long but I can feel the darkness and the dull ache which isn’t painful but is constant. It was innocent, slight touches and small talk, yet his last written words left a hole that grows with every picture I look at and every moment I reminisce.

It was a promise with no agreement, a contract with multiple flaws, a mistake in a masterpiece...and I knew, but I still got attached.

Now this phrase of his plays on repeat in my mind and it’s the cause of this black hole that grows bigger within me.

”I am missing you a lot...”

Things were going my way. I had Billy pinned to the ground and ready for a good thumping. Served him right, the snoop. What had he been doing in my school bag? My mind must have left Billy for a moment, because the next thing I knew, he’d wriggled free and was running down the hallway. I had a choice, chase Billy, or check my bag. Logical. Chase Billy. If he’d taken anything, he’d have it on him anyway. I took off, full pelt. Couldn’t let him get to the doors. I muttered a hasty apology as I ploughed through a group of girls busily exchanging the latest gossip. Skidding round a corner, I caught a glimpse of Billy still fleeing ahead of me. Almost had him now. Drat, he’d made it through the doors. As I chased him out onto the sports field, I heaved a sigh of relief. We were safe, both of us. I checked my watch. 00:00. Then the locker room blew up.

i can’t hear you very well

we’re speaking the same language

but the words aren’t coming across

i look up, notice the wispy clouds in the sky

you look up, notice the sky between the clouds

two bodies

2 spirits

no resemblence to the other

tell me Other Half,

who in the world speaks the language that unlocks my heart?

I ask you to envision a place full of boys without parental supervision, noise, and the unending desire for some of the little guys to prove themselves by poking swords in your face. Sure, the Jolly Roger made him feel like a villain, but we all know this is the classic story of a man stuck in a world that was overrun by children. A tall, blue-eyed pirate with dark hair consumed with a drive for adventure, danger and tyranny—and not a woman in sight. Plenty of children, fairies, mermaids and “redskins”, but no women. What kind of place was this for a pirate? His aggression began as depression and escalated later to vengeful hatred. He had nothing to show for his years of skilled piracy, except the embarrassment of a missing appendage. How did he lose the hand? You guessed it- one of those kids. Of course, he couldn’t blame himself for being too close to a crocodile. He was the “boatswain of Blackbeard”, a man of the hour. At the bottom of his career, time was no longer on his side, and he was stuck with an underskilled crew in a land he “never” planned on being a part of. To add insult to an already injured ego, Peter shows up with Wendy and poor James was a little jealous that Peter could fly to find a girl and, well,he couldn’t. Crumbling under the pressure of securing a legacy, he went a little too far in trying to teach unruly kids a lesson. We can’t excuse his behavior, but we can understand the loss of hope, and maybe even mourn with him over the loss of what could have been if he had just let it go and sailed on to another land.