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About Literature / Student my name is nikki and i write sometimesFemale/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 9 Years
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Statistics 140 Deviations 328 Comments 7,426 Pageviews

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day 17
she dreams of the pink swing set under a canopy
of leaves, shoes brushing colours of autumn
of mud slicked steps, rusted spoons and clear
plastic forks turned opaque from grimy hands
of lard-filled jars and broken glass,
glittering teeth hidden beneath tree shadows
of scratchy hay poking ankles and, below, sharp
metal just peeking through faded itchy yellow:
watching, waiting.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 4 4
day 3
you said: there is just
  something about myths.
i thought there's just
  something about your lips.

tell me the myths of
  your sleepy hometown
and the truths of hands
  held proud in public.
i'd like to learn the
  stories of your skin,
the loud silence of
  heartbeats and bed sheets.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 8 2
you don't sit beside me in class anymore
you look like oversized sweaters waiting for
mr darcy vapid vanilla shows up late to
class with coffee cheeks flushed from cold
(but there's more than meets the eye. i like
the flush of your cheeks and last week i
wondered if you bite lips or lick them; if
you'd change my mind on holding hands)
gone is your floral perfume soft breathing
arm brushing mine proximity pulsing legs
crossing blurry profile in peripheral
(but now i almost like it better this way. it's
easier to follow concentration as it moves
along your features and i have always been
more comfortable with distance anyway)
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 3 8
lost in space
there were words once, listen:
quiet, soft, like fingers brushing over the fabric of a sweater, tickling your ear, warming, small gusts of heat that spread to your toes, a glinting eye, a curved mouth, a promise.
there were words once, listen:
hard, rough, like metal scraping over concrete, bruising, marking your arms, legs, ribs, even your spine, purple and black blossoming on dark skin, yellowing until silence, an apology.
there were words once, listen:
now there are no words, only the deafening roar of silence.
there are words now, listen:
the old stars whisper to each other. they have discovered the secret of patience, a conversation lasting the ages. a single word may take years upon years to travel and you have to know which way to send it. careful, precise, or you may tell a stranger you miss them.
you can hear the sound of these words, like fast cars on a track, restless and enduring. the faster they travel, the slower time moves, slowing rapidly until it sto
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 1 4
sharp nails
there is a pattern of
veins on my right thigh
that looks like the long,
blue bones of a hand
sometimes these thin,
spindly fingers crawl
up my veins and
arteries to clasp around
my heart, tug on the
back of my eyes,
dotting and blacking
my vision
they scrape the nervous
system and i think i
used to pray to settle
the sickness
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 3 4
from 3429 ft.
two years ago from paris, saskatoon looked like a small solar system, hazy with rain and cold. three days ago from toronto, it is midday and foggy, a thick blanket of grey masking tiny grey buildings cut by a tiny grey river. but the feeling is the same and i want to reach across the aisle to hold my sister's hand – much the same as two years ago, russell reaching for my hand, any hand, two changed souls unprepared to face the sameness of home.
but the feeling is not the same. we are not two changed souls: we are just happy ones, 'satisfied with the trip' ones, and i do not hold hands when i am happy.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 2
may 3
i press tissue paper to the skin
above my ankle, apply pressure,
try not to think about the red and
searing and the itch in my hand.
i decide i want to cover my body in
ink, beautiful and expensive.
my grandmother asks me why i
want a tattoo.
i tell her, "i think they're
five years of thinking pass.
birds fly across my wrist and i trap
them midflight.
beautiful and expensive.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 5 2
hey skinny boy, you walk like you know where you're going
and when you kiss me, i don't know what to say
    (  and it sort of
reverberates between us, doesn't it?         )
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 2
parenting 101
when our children wake up screaming in the middle of the night
or crawl into our beds, we have a list of reassurances:
"it was just a nightmare" and
"it was just the shadows" and
"it was just your imagination"
until they, too, are desensitized and locked in a cage,
condition themselves to be blind and sane like the rest of us
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 0
hide and seek
a shadow lives underneath
my bed. when it sees a
bare foot or hand dangling
over the edge, it reaches
out, torn between hunger
and companionship
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 5
a romantic dinner
Just relax tonight, I've cooked you a scrumptious dish.
Scooped out of the aquarium, it's your favourite goldfish!
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 1 2
a romantic boat ride
One day, just you and me, we'll go sailing.
I'll push you over the edge, and you'll go flailing.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 6 5
the hallway closet door sonnet
The time I forgot to close the closet
door after I grabbed a towel and it
haunted me the rest of the weekend
while I waited for someone to come home
and close it for me because I'm a wimp.

Something hides past the open hallway door.
Twisting air. A live shadow, bloodshot eyes,
sharp fingernails curled behind wallpaper.
Green stench; plaque below gums, too many teeth
that click. A white face, dark gaping holes where
fear sits in the curve of eye sockets. Mist,
aura, presence, space, a rotting eyeball
hanging by the nerve caught in a hinge. It
could be anything, it could be real. Man
in a mask, guts on his shirt, meal in hand.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 4 4
the lonely sea monster
Things hadn't been the same since Marty kicked the can. Marty, an old manatee that liked to
trick sailors into believing he was a beautiful stranded woman singing sad songs, had just
dropped dead one day. They said that he choked on a fish bone, but Kassie was sure it
had been the humans.
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 0
the trees surround and scratch you
poke into the whites of your eyes
suspicious and accusing
will you be the next to
use our flesh as kindling?
are you the girl who peeled the
thin skin from the white birch?
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 1 2
the last unicorn
i like zebras
for their stripes,
and birds for
their wings;
wolves for their
mournful howls and
underwater creatures
for their alien environment—
most of all,
i like unicorns
they aren't real but
i pretend they are,
seven years old
and wishing on a salty
folded chip at daycare
that i might finally
chance across one
in the woods at
grandma's farm,
with a pink or purple
mane and eyes that
smile, "yes, i am real
outside of stories and
imagination and that
really long movie
with the cheesy
:iconthe-balcony-scene:the-balcony-scene 2 0

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my name is nikki and i write sometimes
Artist | Student | Literature


Add a Comment:
punkrockmegy Featured By Owner Apr 7, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
thank you for the fav chickipoo!!!
randomlyinspired-21 Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2012  Student Writer
I love your writing style! :love: Keep writing
the-balcony-scene Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2013  Student Writer
thank you very much! :D
punkrockmegy Featured By Owner May 13, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
thanks for the :+fav:s darlin!
kartiksharma Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2012  Student General Artist
You are a true inspiration for me...
I really love your poems. :)
I could not go through your gallery but the ones I saw just mesmerise me ♥
I would love to see more and learn from you...
And keep posting ♥ :)
You really are truly inspiring. :D
the-balcony-scene Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2012  Student Writer
awh thank you (:
kartiksharma Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2012  Student General Artist
And your poems have such unexpected and out of this word topics... something that no one would think.... and then your language...
I'm jealous of the pen that would be in those great hands... :D
meganbreukelman Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2011  Professional Photographer
thank you so much.
:snowflake: :snowflake: :snowflake: :snowflake: :snowflake:
punkrockmegy Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2011  Student Traditional Artist
thanks again for the :+fav:!!!
punkrockmegy Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2011  Student Traditional Artist
thanks for the :+fav: sweetie! I just noticed on your page that
1st: YOU HAVE SUCH A CUTE TEA PICTURE!!!! (i want one!... but i dont drink tea >:/ )
2nd: "shorty makes me feel tall, so i keep her around. ♥" love it lol :)
oh and so agree with college!!! I DONT HAVE A SOCAIL LIFE AT ALL ANYMORE!!!(not that I had much of one before...)
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