When Your Heart Stops Beating When Your Heart Stops BeatingMy first thought is that she pronounced his last name wrong.My second is that she's lying. ~When you think of a person, a tiny file of memory opens in your brain, containing everything you know about them. All the good memories you've made, stupid jokes that have been laughed at, every tear that you may have shed thinking about him or her, it's all in there. Over time, that folder gets bigger and bigger, but a few papers and video clips inside have bright post-it flags on them. Those are the ones that
Defending Hope Defending Hope Ever since she was born, Hope had been frail. She was a premature delivery, thirty two weeks. An ugly little thing in my eyes: squishy, pink, and bald, but Mama and Papa smiled down at her like she was the prettiest thing they had ever seen. They didn’t even seem to mind her screaming. Later on, mama told me that when /I/ was born, I had cried a lot louder. She said Hope had been quieter than most babies. I asked her why, and she said it was because Hope had been born with a terrible pneumonia. I didn’t bother to ask what a pneumonia was, because Hope always seemed to have something I didn’t. On
The Inheritance Box The Inheritance BoxThe Box arrived in the mail yesterday, I’ve been expecting it. The Letter, which arrived last Saturday, had warned me of its arrival. My first encounter with The Box is when I walk into it, arms laden with brown paper grocery bags. The Box is sitting on my front doorstep, patiently waiting to enter.That being my brief prelude, I bring you to the present moment, at which time The Box is occupying most of my small dinning table. Take a moment to see The Box through my eyes. About one and a half feet tall, one and a half feet wide, one and a half feet deep, a perfect cardboard cube wrapped in packaging paper and secur
Prompts Prompt: I'm always the last to know...Prompt: Why?Prompt: The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.Prompt: Why'd I have to figure it out on my own?Prompt: A guy/girl like that.Prompt: London, England.Prompt: Waterbottle.Prompt: You always leave me...Prompt: Do you love me?Prompt: In the end...Prompt: Winner.Prompt: Loser.Prompt: Where were you?Prompt: I'm sorry.Prompt: So ungrateful.Prompt: I feel so foolish.Prompt: We wasted so much time.Prompt: Too far gone.Prompt: Music.Prompt: Dancing.Prompt: Handwriting.Prompt: We're so far apart...Prompt: Is this a dream?Prompt: White vs. Black.Prompt: Fire
Carrie Flynn 1 But I know it’s too late/ I should have given you a reason to stay.~DCFC ‘A Lack of Color’ Carrie Flynn left because it was no longer efficient or profitable for her to stay. When she was gone, villagers spoke ill of her, children cried over her, and forsworn lovers cursed her. They said she was cold-hearted, and that she had never really cared about them at all. Slanderous rumors spread like fire. ‘Did you know she had a bastard with another man?’, ‘I heard she was running from the authorities.’, ‘Jim says he was gonna fire her anyway. Never did like that one too much myself.’ Speculations on
Carrie Flynn 2 Carrie Flynn lives for her books. She reads them all day and pores over them all night and dreams about them when she sleeps. She reads so much it sometimes gets to the point where she forgets what her name is, or where she lives. She begins to call herself by the names of people she’s read, and her own life is so uneventful it seems the things she’s read must have been real.Carrie Flynn prefers reading books over real life. In books she can be whoever she wants to be: a sexy detective, a rampaging murderer, an award-winning novelist, or even some fantastical creature. In real life, all she can be is Carrie Flynn, the girl who rea
EDITED Defending Hope Defending Hope Ever since she was born, Hope had been frail. She was a premature delivery, thirty two weeks. An ugly little thing in my eyes: squishy, pink, and bald, but Mama and Papa smiled down at her like she was the prettiest thing they had ever seen. They didn’t even seem to mind her screaming. Later on, Mama told me that when /I/ was born, I had cried a lot louder. She said Hope had been quieter than most babies. I asked her why, and she said it was because Hope had been born with a terrible pneumonia. I didn’t bother to ask what a pneumonia
Shameless They ran halfway across the bridge, hands clasped, hair flying wildly around them in the night wind, cheeks flushed from cold, excitement, and wine. Breathless, they laughed at each others' disheveled appearances, then at themselves. They kissed and held each other as close as they could get; the stars looked down at them and were jealous. She pried herself from their embrace to lean over the railing, breath coming out in puffs of smoke. There was no river to be seen in the darkness, but when the flower in her hair slipped from behind her ear the current carried it away. She spared it a moment's regret, but there was a warm hand on
idea White walls and White words,Blue skies and Blue birds,Clear glass and Clear smiles,I know you lie.
My new Barbie Doll. Grandma's panicking. I wonder why she's so unhappy. I'm very happy. School was canceled early today. Grandma came to come get e at 9 o'clock this morning. Mommy and Daddy can't, because they're in New York. They just left today.We just got home, and Grandma's been muttering in Greeak again like she does when somethin'gs wrong. Mommy promised to call tonight. Maybe she can tell me why Grandma's acting so strange.I put my backpack in front of the door, and left my shoes there too. Mommy doesn't like that, but I don't think Grandma will really notice. She's in the kitchen getting herself a glass of water.I ask her if I can go and watch the
There's a Picture of You There’s a picture of you, sitting on the other side of this bed made for twoThere’s a picture of you,On the other side,Of this bed made for two,And I dare not come to terms,With just how much I really miss you.
This Isn't Who I Used To Be I want to speak,But I feel so broken,Irrepearable, Irreplaceable,Damaged- That's me.Bring me to my knees,With a complex piano melody,Mournful cellos singing their sorrowful cry,Wailing violin,Tears for all to see,But you don't,Because I hide,Tired and scared,I don't want to be weak anymore,Because falling on the comfort of others,Was never what I did,Look what you've done to me,Destroyed me,This isn't who I used to be.
Relief Salvation Desire Pain. Drag the needle across the skin.How does it feel?Relief.Anger rushing out and pulsing acid pain to expectant nerves.Drag the needle across the wrist.How does it feel?Salvation.Choirs singing sweet Heaven calls so close and yet so far.Drag the needle across the ankle.How does it feel?Desire.Wanting something I know I can only have form a distance.Drag the needle up my back.How does it feel?Innocence.Purity in missunderstanding the lies we were told to believe.Drag the needle across my proverbial heart.How does it feel?Pain.Having nowhere left to turn at the dead end stop of a circle.
The Saviour The SaviourWe who all reach out to you,And you above beseech us too,We dance in perfect harmony,Of parallel diversity,Always near-But never close,All the beauty,And short life of the rose.One hand among many,We reach out to you,And you reach out,Desperately for us too.But you who stand above us all,Can reach down farther than this great wall,Dividing us,Inclining us,To feel distraught and miserable.You can reach still farther down,But choose not,To be among,Us.For if you were, who would we reach out to then?
The Almost-Remembered Touch... It's new for Sally, learning how to behave around Anna. She's never had a girlfriend so desperately in need of touch, affection, and grounding before, never had a girlfriend with so many quirks and needs and eccentricities. She's never wanted to fill all the gaps in a person the way she does Anna. It's like Anna is a sieve, and Sally wants to make her into a bowl. Or maybe it's Anna who wants to be the bowl, and Sally just wants to give her everything she wants, so she'll try impossibly hard, try with her ten fingers to stem the irreversible flow of gravity and water and self-loathing pouring out of the myriad ho
Sleep Now I lay me down to sleep,I pray the Lord my soul to keep;And if I die before I wake,I pray the Lord my soul to take.Spread-eagled, sinking into the silver pool of afterlife, fallling from grace, never loosing face, we will miss you.
Chasing After You WIP It’s like falling backwards into time,Running out of words to rhyme,I’ve been sitting wondering why,Chasing after you. (temp line)Think of all the words you’ve said,Rushing in and out my head,All these tears are left unshed,Chasing after you. (temp line)I’ve been waiting,A bit too long,For something good to come.Someone told me,‘Write a good song,Bring us all along’.Digging deeper,In my own grave,Leaving me alone.
Sta.sh
