Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Drained

I couldn't write this.  The drained emotionless state of me.  I couldn't write this.  How could I write today? I couldn't write this.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Lifeline

I could always count on him.  He was my lifeline.  I really don't know what I would do without you.  Even when I hate you, you always seem to be there.  I can't seem to shake him.  I thought that I was over him but here I find myself even more in love with him.  I know it is wrong.  I could always count on him.  He was my lifeline.  He is everything that I could ever want.  I really don't know what I would do without you.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Fog

The fog hovered the ground in a foreign place.  Headlights break through and I drove.  Down the road was a place.  A empty parking lot full of people.  The fog surrounded the parking lot.  I found myself sat in my car staring into the fog.  I drove down the street to the parking lot.  It was full as I drove through it.  That parking lot was full.  And the fog hovered over its empty spaces.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Mornings

The air was crisps and clean that morning.  The birds danced in the wind around me.  I could have stood in that moment forever.  My stomach open to the cool breeze.  Shivers go down my spine as the birds hid in the trees.  Their songs play through my ears.  The air was crisps and clean and the birds danced in my ears.  I could have stayed in that moment forever.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Love

It is so completely irrational to love someone this much.  To the point where it saddens you when you haven't spoke in days.  How it physically hurts that they are off living their own life.
Love.
What a ridiculous concept.
I remember when I knew I loved you.  We were on a plane back from Atlanta, and like always I had fallen asleep peacefully lulled by the full roar of the people talking.  I remember drifting in and out of my slumber.  One minute you were awake reading through the outdated sky mall magazine and then next you were asleep.  I would fall back to my slumber and then I drifted to a state of partial conciseness where I saw you look at me, bend down and pick up your blanket.  You gently, so as not to wake me, laid it over my body and over yours.  Then you sat back, put your head on my shoulder, and fell asleep again.  I smiled internally because you didn't have to put that blanket over me but you saw that I was sleeping and that there were goosebumps on my skin so out of the kindness of your heart you provided me with a blanket that satisfied my every desire.

Monday, March 16, 2015

A Boy

There was a boy I knew and he ruined a girl.  She had light in her smile and hope to her future.  The boy was expert at hiding his pain and that's really all there is to say.  After their encounter the girl had no light left to follow and no hope to guide her future.  But the boy, the boy left all of his pain stained as ink on her soul.  This boy knew how to ruin that girl.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Down the Hall

She sat there boiling in the sahara room.  the boy down the hall called out for a loving woman fast asleep.  The propellers on the fan above threatened to fly off their hinges.  The girl still wide awake hoped to dream nicely tonight.  The boy down the hall sat wide awake with light illuminating his youthful features.  The woman in her bed still asleep won't wake up.  The girl rolled uncomfortably in a pile of cotton sheets.  The boy down the hall made noises echoing through the small house.  The woman sound asleep was not disturbed.  The girl in her room was hot to the touch fore the fan did not work on her burning skin.  The boy down the hall called out for the woman who would not wake again.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Cold Coffee

The cold coffee sat in my mug taking up space.  I sat at the boardroom table stabbing my mind with unnecessary words and numbers.  The girls around me talked of petty lives.  The boys pretended to work while pictures of the girls danced in their brains.  I sat at the boardroom table music lodged into my ears. The teachers ran around the rooms screaming of first world issues.  The boy looked at me like I was the only person in the room but little did he realize that is how I looked at him a year ago.  I sat at the boardroom table watching the teenagers deal with adolescent life.  At the boardroom table with hope in my heart and logic in my head.  The cold coffee was gone.  And I sat at the boardroom table.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Night Crawler

In the mystical hours of the dark, when the light no longer burns people shall not watch.  There is a creature lurking in the shadows, unknown to all who search.  With its face masked in black, its knowledge is to be burnt.  She cannot hide forever but for now she is condemned.  To solitude in the highest state.  A mystical creature of the dark she is the light that no longer burns. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Him

I have fallen hopelessly, irretrievably, and incandescently in love with the wrong person.  And there are days when I forget that he is all wrong for me and that all I want is to feel his head resting on my shoulder.  But then I remember that he talks to other girls who captivate his attention more than I do.  And I want to cry but he isn't worth my tears.  Unfortunately I am in love with him.  And for right now I cant change that.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Alive

I haven't been alive in a while,
and sometimes I forget what it feels like.
To breathe in air,
and to let it out.
Do people laugh without thinking?
Is it common to love without regret?
I won't be alive for a while,
and I worry it will never come.
Do the thoughts flow like water?
Do the words come with ease?
I don't know if I'm living,
and I don't know if I'm dead.
Does time feel like forever?
Does the end seem far?
I haven't been alive in a while,
and sometimes I forget what it feels like.
To breathe in and out without dying.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Our Story

Ours is a story of many times.  Our story has grown with us.  How you would talk less and hug more.  How I swooned and fell hard.  Ours is the story of love and hate.  Our story sets the stage form my heart to ache.  How you left without a word.  How I saw you with her.  Ours is a story that has happened again.  Our story resumes as just friends.  How you talked but didn't hug.  How I fell and can't get up.  Ours is a story that will continue.  Our story is never ending.  How you talk of others.  How I really just want to know how you feel.  Ours is a story that's all to common.  Our story I hold close and dear.  Ours is a story of trial and error.  Our story is by far my favorite ending.

Friday, March 6, 2015

Nothing

And just like the days before I felt nothing.  "Friends" it meant nothing to me.  I wanted it to mean something I wanted it to hurt and make me cry myself to sleep.
No.
Nothing is what I was left with after months of numbness.  I will admit he gave me butterflies which felt all to sweet to last.  I understand the reason and I don't judge seeing as they are much simpler than mine.  He was to kind to be real and we all know that good girls don't get the good guys.  So as adolescent nature took it's course once again I was left in my bed of nothing while his shoulders were free of a weight of nothing holding him down.  And tomorrow I will smile and laugh and no one will know that the girl inside is begging to go.  I will watch as he stays close to me and I will die each time he breaths.  I will suffer through each and every hour and wait until I am free at last for two whole days by myself.  I will sit in nothing and write every single thing that I fight.  And for nothing I will write so much about the things I know and the things to come.  So as he closes his eyes tonight for a peaceful night of sleep I will close mine to a night of nothing fill insomnia.  And for the days to come I learn to live with my nothing song playing like the soundtrack to the movie that is my life. 

Thursday, March 5, 2015

The Waiting Girl

The pages they read and the words the wrote were not real.  An illusion that could be taken away.  Their laughter was over their apologetic lives.  Bodies dressed provocatively glided through the halls without a care.  You could see the girls holding onto his hands.  A hand that would one day let go of her leaving it in a thousand pieces simulating the end of her existence.  You could see the boys running for a ball that had no chance of a future.  A game they would play to work out their uncontrolled youth energy.  Each one so different but categorized to fit together.  You could see her.  See was standing in the middle of the rushing hallway.  Her book bag hanging from her shoulder and a coffee mug warming her hand.  She could feel everything.  Like a sponge soaking up all of the dreadful emotions radiated by them.  She saw the underlying pain in their souls that would slowly eat away at their very existence.  She would stand there day after day watching them scramble to make the bell or to gossip on unintentional drama.  She had no desire there.  So for two years more she stood watching them repeat the cycle until she was granted leave from her sedentary state.  Because then she would no longer stand as an out of place statue but she would fly as a powerful goddess.  She would read and write pages so tangible she could cry at their realness.  Her illusion taken away but the breath of cultures waiting for her exploring.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Just Fifteen

His hand ran up my thigh to my heart and mind.
And he grabbed at the girl wearing sweat pants and long sleeves.
She was just fifteen.
Her innocence taken from her all too young.
She was just fifteen.
Left alone in the sheets that smelled like ecstasy.
His hand was on my back pulling me to his broad chest.
I didn't want it.
She was just fifteen.
Dressed modest she cried for hope.
And a year later here she sits.
In this therapist office with a woman.
She was just fifteen.
And this woman called it how it is.
A word so disgraceful that she would cry until she was gone.
She was now sixteen.
And she was raped. 

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

These Pretty Girls

These pretty girls with pretty faces passed my eyes.  Pretty girls with pretty smiles that everybody loves.  Pretty girls with pretty eyes that you could stare into and not only will you see the sparks in them but also their very bright future.  Pretty girls with pretty hair that flowed like waterfalls over their shoulders.  Pretty girls with pretty lips that were covered by lipstick as bright as blood.  Pretty girls with pretty faces didn't seem so pretty.  Pretty girls with pretty faces coated in make up.  These pretty girls with their pretty smiles, eyes, hair, lips, and faces were everywhere.  But these pretty girls were not real.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Four

There was a half full beer bottle on the coffee table and a pair of glasses next to it.  And sitting on the leather sofa was a woman with grey in her hair and dark spots on her face.  Her hands worn out from years of help and her eyes have seen too much pain.  And there was a band playing in the back of her house.  Sound echoing out of small speakers so no one could hear.  Outside worked a man with a temper and good intentions.  He could inflict pain with just a look but his hands were soft to touch.  The boy who ran around without a head was cooperating today.  He would spend all his time bouncing an orange ball if time saw it fit.  But the girl who sat in her room had no story.  She would sit her days out with words caught inside.  There was a kettle on in the kitchen.  Doors opened and closed like routine.  These four people would never talk and it was unbearable.  The beer bottle was empty now and the glasses were worn by the woman.  The girl listened to the band in the back of the house.  The doors stayed quiet and the boy played video games.  And the man turned the kettle off.  These four people functioned.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Essential Information

My bed was filled with books and journals all the words who made up who I was. The sad story of a high school boy played from my laptop.  And my glasses, that were too small for my face, sat on my bedside table next to a prescription to change who I was.  My bed was filled with blankets and pillows the only hugs I would get and the sad story haunted her memory and her glasses still sat next to her bed, but the pills, the pills slowly rolled down her throat forever changing her DNA.