a dying fire
- fragile yellow flames crackling
- golden specks remain, resting on top of the wooden logs
- once roaring red
- more smoke than flames
- flickering rapidly, moved by the wind, tilting with intent to one side
- melting into ash-black, muttering, whispering, like it is calling out for help
- the image i see mimics the image of a drowning figure - the tips of the flames like human fingers, waving exasperatedly
the last autumn leaf on the tree
- hangs from the underside of a lone branch
- it sways and crackles in the cold wind
- holds the markings of the sunset
finally, i found my flame.
my strength and courage —
born from the ashes and pain.
one and lonely
Little hand grenade.
Two plastic hearts with nowhere to run.
Snakebite heart with a bubblegum smile —
Should've known that you've been dancing with a wolf.
To bring an end to promises,
We had to say goodbye.
i hope you’re smiling down
I still ache inside
knowing I could have saved you.
I smile at the stars.
i adore it when the air is so sweet, full of laughter and golden hope; i feel a wonderful sort of tightness in my chest.
what do you love?
i think that all of us —
as much as we are blood and flesh and stardust —
are built of collections of what we love.
what kind of music makes your soul dance?
bubblegum pop or monstrous metal,
no matter the sound: it is a drop of you.
black coffee or sugar-filled sweets,
beaming puppies or pretty kittens,
raging thunderstorms or the rainbow that comes after —
or maybe you love all of the above.
you are made up of all these little pieces that make you, you.
it is not a perfectly put together puzzle,
and i say the chaos is what makes it interesting.
the stars blinking in the darkness,
shedding traces of light on the littered ground,
“when you gaze up longingly into the night sky,
someone somewhere, is looking at the same patch of space,
the same cluster of stars.
and a total stranger mimics the sparkle in your eyes.”
i whisper back.
“the black blanket connects us,
no matter how far we are from one another.”
goodbye blue sky
I look and see the light
I write and see the dark
In words I see my shallow broken heart
I see beauty in the ugly
And sadness in the sun
In you I see a shadow yet to come
There was a rope that tugged at my neck with each passing second.
That rope was tied to a role.
Then, I didn’t know what role I was meant to play.
Sometimes, little dogs act all high and mighty because they think that they are big.
They bare their teeth and snarl and hiss.
They growl and prowl around like they own the place.
They act like big dogs, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are small.
With people, when they feel like they’re the worst - they act like they’re the best.
(I’m sure that tiny dogs always feel like they’re the best.)
Tweaking parts of yourself to appear greater and more extraordinary - is it worth it?
I wonder. Does it make you happy?
Maybe pretending to be something you’re not fools people on the outside.
Still, pretending to be something you’re not takes a toll on the inside - the real you.
And the real you is more important than anyone else.
So, the message is, it’s okay to be yourself. It’s okay to be who you are.
In growing up, we may hear many things about who we’re supposed to be.
Don’t look at yourself through everyone else’s eyes. What do you think?
Tell me what you want for yourself.
Then, make a difference.
The role that is truly yours will not break you.
Remember. You take the rope. You don’t let the rope take you.
Finally! You’re standing up for what you believe in.
You’re looking up and believing that all your efforts were worth the while.
And you knock on their doors for them to invite you in with a smile -
and they ask you how you’ve been. If you would like something to drink, to eat.
You take a seat. But sometimes, all they have to offer you is cynicism and defeat.
Don’t forget that this world can be dark and cruel.
There will be hurt that cannot be fixed with bandages or with poetry.
Always know that you are not made of metaphors, but flesh and bone.
Know that there is no destiny for you that is set in stone: destiny is a book you write yourself.
Do you forget that what is pleasing for you to look at isn’t all that there is?
That what you love isn’t always yours to keep, but yours to miss?
Allow me to introduce myself.
I am the love you never wanted,
the What Else that there is.
I am here to tell my story, and you should listen to the haunted.
For what feels like forever -- I have battled
a strange pain. I ache with emptiness
as the one you won’t notice and the one
who’s no fun. I am unseen, unpleasant,
with heartstrings undone.
I’m floating about and wandering.
I’m wondering why it must be me,
and I’m trying to remember what I
have been. Girl. Woman.
Since the beginning I have known
I am Human -- for I am skin and flesh and blood and bone as most.
But truth be told, I am better off Ghost.