bluedisch.'s blog

waves crashing over granules
of sand, ending in white foam, like
toothpaste at night before bed
cold and tingling, but flying faster
than the fish below, no
shoes, no anchor
without a sense of perspective
it's hard to tell where you are
and what you are.

I'm kind of not sure why,
but I wanted to tell you that
even when you've gone away,
leaving me behind here, or maybe
I'm the one who will go away,
I will always keep you
with me in my pocket,
combining you with my songs,
my writing, my life.
As if I could really delete you
from my memory, snap, bang, like
that.
Thank you for everything, and I'm
letting you go if you need to,
but only because I have and do and
always will
love you and yours
whenever I see your picture
and hear your song.

she fell swiftly,
her leaves all a flutter,
green with envy for the living trees
a silent scream, a cry for help,
and she was gone from this world,
branches still shaking,
wishing they could rustle in the wind
like starched taffeta curls of petticoats
under a sky-blue ballgown.
but this is not a faint,
it's real, so real she wouldn't be able
to believe it.
[this is why
past tense
is so
harsh
beyond
compare]

and it wasn't just
dirt
it was permanent.

it was the first time
she had ever sat in silence
without music, without words
and without sleep.
thinking took all
her energy
and didn’t give it back.

from a side view, the chair’s back
lurched
forward, slicing her upper back, carefully,
noiselessly
waiting for her to realize the pain, or
acknowledge it, at the very least.
looking at her face, you would never
know the thoughts behind her eyes, the
memories
the chair was bringing back
most talk shows strategically placed these
miniscule torture chambers around the room
decorating them with sunny tulle
and cloudy feathers
so the deceiver might be deceived by
pleasantries
and perhaps goaded into speaking
about her life, the real one, behind
her eyes.

tears rush
down her face,
lavender with
distress,
a marathon:
racing to see
who gets
to the bottom
first.
she is unable
to face her own
words that scar
the ivory paper,
delicate and
striking as they are.
the scarlet capital letters
remind her of him
looming over the
naiveties of the world
posing an empty, yet
powerful threat.
it is as if she is also
a letter on a page,
violently helpless,
praying for someone
(something, at least,
dear God, take pity)
will spare a piece of
remorse, prayer, even
love? for her.

I only have
this time
to write
and I'm afraid
if I mess it up
I won't even have
this
anymore,
because you've
never trusted me,
even if you say
you just don't
trust the world.
You'll have to let
me go sometime,
so I can learn to
survive,
and show you that
the world isn't
half as scary
as they tell you.
I know it's not
perfect, but
I'll stay alive
for you.

A turf could
stand for this
relationship,
technically...
It was calm and
warm yesterday,
but today it's
boiling hot.

She's always been
in between the two,
inside the sandwich.
Her sisters
are worlds apart,
and yet she can
bring them together,
a silent peacemaker.
No one notices how
hard she works
because she's as quiet
and calm as a stream
flowing through the
mountains, dividing them
into separate entities
but holding them
close. They can live
together in peace,
alone, but not.

Better than
sunglasses and
sunny days on the
turf
are warm nights on
the beach
looking out on the
sunset, being
splashed by a
dog.

How dare you
accuse me
of a crime
that you have
not yet given
up yourself?
I'm broken,
but I'd prefer
for you to fix
yourself first.

I don't remember you because of it
but sometimes your face floats into
my mind
and I desperately need some sort of
background music.

Though it brightens
up this dull english
class,
it still reminds me
of some dark F building
hallway where I
met you.

All you need
is what you
can't have for
another eight hours.
And all you want is
the breeze
blowing through your
hair and
the sunshine
brightening
lightening
[darkening, too]
your skin.
Just add
the music
and it's alright
no, just kidding,
it's perfect.