splendidsam

The sidewalk bends to knock me off. Or am I the one bending? Bending too much towards some imaginary goal that will never reveal itself? Again, I see two feet I know. I follow the feet upwards to see that face I know. I try to keep walking. I don't. I outline the lips with my eyes. I wish I could touch them. Your hand. It clenches. It breathes as if it wants to touch something. I want to touch it back. But in that moment I am smart. I laugh a little inside to know that I won't stay smart. I will give in. I will. The red brick building next to me breathes as heavy as I do. I want to lean against it to stop myself from running after my old fa

I don't need to see your wide eyes as they stare at my beautiful body I don't need to see your perfect lips spell out my name and pierce my brain I don't need to feel your slow touch and slow lips as they tell me how amazing I am.. I don't need to watch  you fawn over my every move and mood. What I do need for you to do is whisper my name in a public place And touch my hand, head, and heart where it matters most. The most important part of this tribute to you and your blessed influence is that you must understand that I do not, and will never NEED you.

Anna jolted. She shot up out of her restless sleep, and this time, didn't see those familiar white washed walls. Her eyes were met with the even more familiar dimness of her own dark room. The only thing twisting and turning in her brain was the repeating image of his silhouette, and his life essense in her hand. Beating. Stopping. Dead. He had tried to kill her, and she had succeeded in killing him. Figuratively, yes. But still. The only thing that she kept ruminating over was the fact that he had put her under. He had put her under the bright lights of a state somewhere in between life and death. This new state she was in..she didn't know w

Anna gasped as the knife disappeared, leaving only the hilt visible as it plunged through the buttons of her shirt. It broke through the painfully thin fabric, through her soft, unblemished skin, and through her "tough" hyde (and bones.) Her eyes, tearing up, barely had enough time to look down and see what she already felt. The blade, drenched in her own crimson blood, was torn from the new hole in her chest, by her own violently shaking hands. She looked upwards, farther this time; only to gaze upon the face of the person who shoved it through her. He looked as though there was no longer anything inhabiting his usually bright, life-filled b

This morning, I woke up alseep. asleep to the birds and their incessant chirping, asleep to the insipid music that my idiotic roommate was "playing" the only thing I was awake to, was the expectation. the knowledge that I soon would be in the place that.. the place that I could just be, could just soak in the familiarness.. the scents of wet dog, of weed, of dirty little boys and girls traipsing   through the already washed (dirty) carpet. the only thing my feet long to feel is the wet grass the soft spring texture of those paths taken previously. my summer skin soon to breathe in the summer sun, and air. so clean, yet so raw

tearing, compartmentalizing, boxing. i watched the little pieces of paper dancing in and out, in and out. they twirled in a motion that i could only describe as beautiful. because honestly, my life has taught me that only inanimate objects can remain beautiful, no matter how much you tear them to pieces and push them to dance in the way you want them to. just watching those little shreds dance with each other like that, sent a shock through me..i saw the pure, unadulterated exhileration, the loss of control..and it gripped me so much to the point where i could see myself launching off the space between us and into the same free fall.

i asked you to stay, and what did you say? no, you replied, because i'm not good for you in any way. did you care a slight bit that maybe you not being there was no good for me.. in any way? i don't suppose the thought crossed your mind. what does this mean for me? does it mean that i need to stop looking in the mirror..at my face that misses you so deeply? i can still recall quite clearly, the calm caring way your calloused fingers slipped through mine, and into the harsh and empty air. the harshness became multiplied by one-hundred-thousand times...thanks to the way my hands clutched at the newly empty space. i clung to your fum