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day 17she 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:
day 3you 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.
you don't sit beside me in class anymoreyou 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)
lost in space1
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
sharp nailsthere 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
they scrape the nervous
system and i think i
used to pray to settle
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.
may 3i 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
beautiful and expensive.
reverberationshey 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? )
parenting 101when 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
I Miss You So MuchRemember how when we were little we would play in the park from morning till nightfall? How we used to pretend to be pirates, princesses or adventurers? I miss the smiles we shared and the happiness of the moment. I look around my room and question myself where did the memories go? Are they still there or were they destroyed when you left that terrible night?
I miss your head against my shoulder and your smile. Also, the way your eyes watched the fish in the small pond across the street. God, your little sibling misses you. They lay in your bed for hours and hours on end and ask me where you've gone. I'm still too shaken up to respond. They ask themselves why they didn't take the time to just listen to you or kiss you on the cheek more.
Your classmates miss you, also. They can't bear looking at your old seat. They can feel the emptiness in the room and I think it's eating them alive. They asked themselves why they didn't take you more seriously or stand up for you. Your parents are a m
Love Me | Cap. 5 (( Historia BL ))
Me quedé dormido junto a G Billy. Él me está abrazando. Como para que no me fuera de él. Veo la hora. Falta 1 hora para que inicie la película. Muevo a G Billy para despertarlo. Él es de sueño profundo y es difícil de despertar. ¿Cómo lo despierto? Me volteo para mirarlo. Realmente quiero ir a ver la película. Me le pongo encima y lo beso.
Para ser sincero, es raro cuando yo inicio el beso, pero no me queda de otra. G Billy abre los ojos cuando yo me alejo un poco de él. El solo sonríe.
- Jamás me has despertado así.
- Cállate. – Me tapo la boca.
G Billy se levanta un poco y me abraza. Se levanta de la cama y me carga. Me lleva hacia la sala. No hay nadie. Empiezo a pensar que hay algo raro y que todos planearon esto para quedarnos solos. Pero bueno, ya no debo de tener pena.
- Petey, quiero decirte algo.
- ¿Qué cosa?
G Billy acerca sus labios lentamente a mí. Yo solamente me sonrojo.
Hell Herenone of you perhaps understand my situation/condition..
anyway I have to come out of here myself..but I cant..wont ever..life is hell here..
Modern Worldmodern world is different...people can respect each other...
so i need to be in modern world...that is not here....
Immense Inconsiderationmy family is doing immense inconsideration to me..
for them I am a toy and of no care..because of my likings...at most they see me as a ransom of greed..
The GreatestI never grew up to achieve the greatest...
there are in fact much greater people than me on this earth, whom you compare to God of their work..where do I stand before them?
Ruined My Lifemy parents and sister have ruiend my life due to their adamant so called righteousness..
its not Petra's cause....honestly...
day one, part threei think your eyes are pretty and your smile is pretty and your hair is pretty and your legs shot heat down my spine.
but you're not that pretty up close you wear your eyeliner like the thick outline of bad clipart and when your legs aren't moving, i forget who you are. the girl beside you toys with the ends of her hair and her thighs are tanned and bare just like yours. her voice is syrup, sugar content too high, and it's all i can do to keep my mouth upturned, to partake in the pleasantries of small talk.
you are just another girl with hair extensions and jeans cut at the pockets. when you speak, it is hard to hear beyond the cotton candy vowels that think you are still a little girl (did you ever grow up?).
i want to lift your parietal bone and look for something other than pretty and legslegslegs.
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