Aside

Confetti

I am a balloon filled with confetti
The air is you
The confetti is my personal collection of feelings—
Hidden in this balloon
I just want to explode
To be torn open,
Rain down all I have
But I keep it together
I keep floating in the sky
Waiting for you to grab the string and pull me down from this high

I stay here full of hot air and scraps of paper
Pretending to be beautiful on my own
Being taken with your wind no matter which direction
There is nothing beautiful about colorful secrets and candy coated lies

Maybe the rest of the world deserves to see me
Waiting and patience have voided like the coupons that sit in my drawer
Useless
Or the days I’ve counted that turned into years
Wasted
No words spoken, only moments felt
But my goodness I still need you so I can breathe

Advertisements
Aside

Good Girl

Her body is buried in your backyard

The dirt is caked under your fingernails

Your hands, razor blade sharp, held her heart

Blood still stains your incapable hands.

You owned her body while starving her soul,

Willfully ignoring her heart,

Abusing her fragile mind.

The bones cry out from the earth haunting you.

You murdered her word by word–

Kiss by kiss

You couldn’t get enough of this pain you inflicted.

Call it wicked.

The good girl is dead.

 

 

 

Aside

Indigo

When it rains, the drops absorb into my skin

Each drop, a tear cried from the sky

An indigo bubble forms over my heart

 

Indigo like the color of the night sky after a hurricane that I caused

Each storm I brew, self-destruction

Indigo Christmas lights strung across my body

Indigo flowers lain in a circle around my head

 

As if I had a choice but to be anything but a shade of blue rainbow

Wasted ink of my pen

That bleeds the color of my soul onto paper

The indigo visionary is me, who doesn’t know how to just be

 

The shade doesn’t know if it is purple or blue

Me, a girl who doesn’t know whether to stay or go

Always too high, or too low.

 

 

 

 

 

Aside

Excerpt #3

“How could you just forget about me?” He said

“I kept telling myself you didn’t care and that you weren’t going to come back for me.”

“But that’s not true, I’m here now.” He said with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Yes, you are. But as the months passed one by one, I never heard from you–not by phone, text, email, or even a letter.”

“I figured if one of my feelings of doubt was interrupted by your interference then you must love me, you must want me. But you never interfered so I chose to let you go the only way I knew how. I chose to believe that you once cared but I wasn’t enough for you to chase beyond your convenience.”

His eyes widened, and his mouth thinned into a straight line, but he said nothing.

I wasn’t sure why he came back to me every time, to someone he didn’t love, but now I realized that he came back to take what I had given him. The very love he lacked. He’d take my love with him time and again only to leave, perhaps to give it away to someone else he thought deserved it more.

Aside

Paper Crane

I made a paper crane out of snow

The paper crane could fly anywhere

But it would always return to the same spot above my head

Raining its anxieties on me

 

My feet are cinderblocks because I like the drops falling on me

I don’t dance in the storm though, I just get wet

The coldness of the ice freezes my heart numb

Numb—the absence of feeling

Somehow, I feel nothing and it is everything

 

If my heart is frozen then the blood in my veins is made of lava

And my mind is volcanic ash blown away in the wind

No, I can’t live stuck to the ground

But I still can’t move because my roots are planted here

I let the paper crane fly to bring back pieces of the world to where I stay

 

I am a divine collector of all things broken

I collected you

You whose words are liquid nitrogen

Familiar as where I sleep each night

It’s all messy, right? Here in the desolate arctic hollows of my heart?

You are the only broken thing I let the paper crane return

With you gone the snow turns to fire and I burn,

I burn.

Aside

The saddest sadness

Perhaps the saddest, sadness in the world isn’t being sad. Perhaps the saddest feeling in the world is the quiet lonely room in one’s heart, that is no longer surprised by the sadistic evils that pervert the purest things in this world like love. The saddest sadness is not in the feeling, it is in the accepting. Accepting that you can see the good in people who do things that make your nightmares seem insignificant in comparison. It is in accepting the fact that you cannot love people into changing into a better person. The saddest sadness is knowing that everyone can love and be loved in return, but many will choose to cling to the hate anyway.
Life does not seek to devour us. Life seeks to be lived, no matter what mountain there is to climb, no matter what knives stab us, no matter what humans hurt us. What is sad is also triumphant when we make the decision to move forward slaying our demons, but also loving our neighbors without reason.