It’s the end of an era
As the stars in the velvet sky set fire to my eyes
it's the end of an era, of my life
I BREAK FREE
x libbythepencil x
saying that you didn't matter
turning my back against you
leaving. staying. talking. staying silent.
I miss you and I wish that I could do it all over...
i'm really sorry and i want you to know that.
I'm just in your head and you know it. It's too late. You knew that I was going. You know that I am gone, gone with your tears from long ago.
I miss you too.
x libbythepencil x
The smell of rain
I think the smell of rain is damp and slightly earthy. You can probably define it in any way, it can be different for all people. A person who has lost can think that rain smells salty, like tears. A person who is full of joy can think that rain can smell like a happy memory, the warm embrace of a loved one or the smell of something delicious being cooked. A person who never came back from their inner wars could think that rain smells like the battlefield, or the metallic scent of a gun. I don't know how it smells like for you, but each droplet has its own story to tell.
Ode to the flames
Ode to all the flames. That's right. The flames, those that consume everything in its path and cause the strongest foundations to crumble, licking at the sides of people's hearts. Burning everything they touch. (Of course, they can be reduced to small cooking fires but where's the drama in that?)
The flames hiss and spark before my eyes, but my vision is focused all around me. I am soon to be enveloped in flames. Soon, they will rare, like a snake, poising to make its kill on a small mouse. I will be burnt to crisp. The dense smoke parches my throat and I think to myself, "What a way to die. A matchstick, a box of tissues, and hand-sanitizer." I can't stand it any more. Collapsing to the floor, all I can think of is your face, swimming in the smoke.
A strong smell of burnt chicken meets my nostrils. I feel strangely cool, despite all the flames around me. Hmm. I can finally breathe too. I look down, I recieve a shock. I am covered in head to toe in feathers, scarlet and gold feathers that glow like embers. I scream, but instead of a human voice, I hear a low, soft musical cry emitted from my mouth? Beak?
Ah. I get it now. All this born anew, rising from the ashes stuff. A phoenix, that's what I am. Destined to live in the flames, no longer recognisable by those whom I love. A momentary flame. Smoke, disappearing too fast before you can see me.
WARNING: FLAMMABLE SUBSTANCE. KEEP AWAY FROM FLAMES.
The clock strikes, and all that can be heard is silence. Slowly, glass shatters.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
I think about you when it rains.
Everytime I hear the soft, almost tuneful plop plop of raindrops on my foggy window, I remember the little girl in wellington boots who loved splashing about in puddles, spinning her umbrella around in the sky.
I think of her bedraggled hair and her grin and her cheeks wet with rain. I think about her mists of breath fogging up the glass panes of the car windows as she watches the bushes and trees speed by.
I remember her sweet voice, humming (slightly out of tune) "My Favourite Things" from the sound of music and her struggles to remember all the lyrics. I remember her tinkling laughter, like the sound of bells, when she tries running from the murky stormclouds in the sky, but ends up failing miserably.
When I look in the mirror, I can see her looking right back at me. I can see her in my eyes. I know she's still there inside me, no matter what.
Mellifluous. It sound so beautiful and charming, like the way that the birds chirp at dawn, the colours of the sunrise perched on their small plumed shoulders. Sweet and enjoyable, nature's own lullaby.
Have you ever heard of the turquoise- browed motmot? Its song is mellifluous. It is a stunning bird of paradise that can be found in South America, known as torogoz. They live in dense rainforests to hide their beautiful plumage. They have a turquoise brow, as their name suggests, but the thing that I believe is the most wonderful about them is their tail plumage. The top of the tail closest to the body has flat feathers of a bright blue colour, while the end of its tail is, in my opinion, shaped like a tulip. The feathers encircle each other to form a flower shape that is hollow in the middle.
But why am I telling you all this? The turquoise- browed motmot is just one of the infinite things in life that are irresistably beautiful, and they bring tears of joy. But the most delightful and lovliest things in life cannot be seen with the eyes, they cannot be heard with the ears.
They are felt by the heart.
i can't. i can't. i can't. i can't. i can't.
i must. i must. i must. i must. i must.
wash my hands. wash my hands. wash my hands. wash my hands.
i have to. i have to. i have to. i have to. i have to.
check it. check it. check it. check it. check it.
someone please help me
The Snow Swan
As I tramped over the moss- strewn rocks of the forest, my legs started to seize up even worse. I could smell the fresh pine in the air, but it did not cover the shudders of pain that attacked my side. It was bleeding worse than ever, the place where I had cut myself . I had slipped while climbing some rocks and their jagged surfaces had cut into my waist. Blood blossomed into my shirt, staining it with a deep scarlet. I felt faint, but I knew I had to keep going. I had heard some funny rumors about this forest when I last visited a village. Like how there were things, spirits and ethereal beasts that roamed this place. I had to find my way out of here before nightfall.
The sky darkened its hues and the clouds continued to float peacefully across the sky. I, on the other hand, was feeling the opposite. My mind was beginning to trail into the murky darknesses of oblivion, and my thoughts filled my head like fog. First I thought that it was just the rustling of the tree leaves, but as I listened more closely, I could discern words, and it sounded so familiar. Wait... mother? How are you here?
“Elodie... Elodie... Come to me now...”
Mother? Where are you? I’m coming! Can you hear me?
“Elodie... Elodie... Can you see me now?”
I turned around and began searching through the trees frantically. The needles poked at me but I didn’t stop. Then, I saw them. They were not solid, they were shadows. Shadows, in the shape of humans. My mother’s shadow. Slowly, they started to creep towards me, and I knew something was terribly wrong. They reached out towards me with clawed little shadow hands, and grasped my ankle. I was too scared to move. The world as I knew it started blacking out...
Even though I had closed my eyes, I still sensed that there was this dazzling light all around me. I got up with my eyes still closed. Slowly, I chanced a glance in front of me and I saw the most beautiful thing in the world. It was a swan, beating its strong majestic wings in the air and crying out loudly. It seemed to be glowing, and its feathers were a ghostly pure white, like untainted snow. Shrieking loudly, the shadows scattered and melted into the trees. Slowly, the swan raised its gaze towards me and blinked its long eyelashes. Then it flew away, disappearing into the sky until all I could see of it was a white pinprick in the air. It was too much. My body could not take it any more. I collapsed, again.
When I came to my senses, I was lying on something soft, and the smell of the pines was gone. I looked at my alarm clock. Wait! My alarm clock? With a shock, I discovered that I was back in my room, lying on my bed. Then all of last night’s events came back to me. The swan. The shadows. The trees. Was it all a dream?
ragged wintry gusts
carve the pallid icebound boughs
a whitewashed palette
a haiku about my favourite season, winter