Nov 14

Four Sets of Wings

“Yes, I will say hi to Mom for you, don’t worry,”
I tell my sister, squeezing her hand in assurance.
The nurse smiles sadly from the doorway.
“Don’t forget to tell her I miss her a lot, okay? It isn’t the same without her.”
A raspy breath rattles my dry lungs.
“What...what isn’t the same?” I cough.
She scrunches her face in thought.
“Everything, Sissy. She isn’t here to kiss me goodnight, to give Lucky a bath, to---”
A searing, burning pain slices through my stomach. The world tilts a little bit.
“Sissy! Are you okay? You’re okay, you’re okay…” she tries to convince me.
Slowly, the pain trickles away. I open my eyes to her small, rotund face above mine.
The corners of my mouth tug up weakly for her sake.
“You can give Lucky his baths now.” A pause to catch my breath. “You’re a big girl.”
She takes my sweaty palm in her own again. “I’m not a big girl, not like you. I wish… I wish I was like you.”
Oct 25

I Want To Die

The title got you, didn't it?
It is such a depressing phrase, 
and yet it is used quite a lot these days,
especially from my generation, from what I've noticed.
How sad is it that kids' lives are so horrible that they 
want to be rid of them forever?
You might brush it off, call us weak,
"just suck it up, your life isn't that bad".
You have no idea of what is going on in their life.
If you believe that you get the 
right to say things like that,
about someone else's life,
then you should put on their shoes
and really see what they are going through.
These days, stress is getting piled on teenagers
about college, homework, jobs, debt, life in general.
And sometimes, it becomes too much,
so they take the only way out they can think of. 
The problem with this world is that we have normalized
the wanting of death, to get away from here and all this stress.
Sep 24
poem 0 comments challenge: Portrait

A Discreet Description

The face that is in my dreams and
thoughts, squared and set,
eyes seeing things real and yet not,
is the one that I love without
claiming it, my mouth yet to
utter the words I so much long
to say, to watch those beautiful blue
eyes and sly, smirking mouth, move
in surprise and delight as the
three tiny words would slip past my lips
and reach your big, framing ears.
Everything that you are comprised of
is the definition of my love, from the
bouncing, blond curls around your
boyish yet manly features, to the long
stride of your legs, so much farther than
mine, to the strong, callused hands that
steady and create wonders for the
world.  If the Sun could take on an Earthly
form, it would be made into your smile,
as when you feel joy, the whole world lights
up, the whole world that is mine,
just because you are in it.
Sep 17

Steel Hearts

Either fortunately or unfortunately,
we are here.
By forced methods,
we are chained to the ground, 
our wings clipped and broken.
They don't need to put us in cages
if we are already in one.
Restrained and earth-bound,
they took our spirits, our lives, our hope.
Tell me, please,
what is keeping you down?
When they took our flight, 
they only left us our fight. 
So let me tell you, darling,
that the only way you can
regain your freedom
is to fight back. 
Whether with a sword or with words,
nothing is small in the rebel heart.
Come with me, you who I can so clearly 
see has a heart made to rebound,
bounce and bite back, like mine.
Let us join together, hand in hand,
and conquer our captors,
make them regret the day 
they took the knife to our wings
and our hearts,
letting them bleed out until they thought
we were empty.
Sep 07

An Otherworldly Ending

The wind kills them
all, a wave of death that
isolates and singles out
one, only one.

Do not deem them dull
when they die.
It catches them all off guard,
no place safe, except

for the moon, the astronaut
alone all the way from home.
His lifeline goes quiet
and silent as the downwind

carefully carries the whisper
of the lives leaving the world.
Out on the moon dust terrain,
he watches the dead planet

move slower than molasses
stuck in sticky honey.
He watches as he becomes
an orphan to everything

he ever knew, his life
the lone survivor of
all things living. He realizes
that isn't really a life, but an ending.
Aug 26

My Hummingbird Companion

With their rapid beating hearts and tiny wings,
they flutter around like stars in my own universe.
Swirling tones of a green and yellow storm they sing
their sweet, silent songs of melodical verse.

“What is it like to be a human being?”
the birds ask with their unvoiced inquiry.
“To have a body like yours must be freeing,
instead of our bones, so fragile and wiry.”

Should I tell them the truth to their question,
or let them live on in their peaceful naiveté?
My lips part to give them the hurtful confession,
although something inside me kept it at bay.

“You wish for a human body like mine,
but blessings don’t come without a price.
While I long to fly above the clouds and the pines,
being earthbound is my yielded sacrifice.”

I continue on with sustained vigor,
"Everyone wishes for what they don’t have,
yet they don’t see the crucial figures.
Jun 24

Together Evermore

If you walk onto the hill by the house near the ocean,
you will see two figures standing, looking at the ground.
They are holding hands, a boy and a girl,
as the wind whips around them.
Her hair flies into his face, although he doesn’t try to move it.
They would have laughed,
but this is not a time of joy,
only mourning and sadness.
Tears drip down their faces,
the gales picking them up before they hit the grass.
At their feet are two unmarked gravestones,
but they both know who lay dead beneath,
just as they know that no one has bothered to take down those ropes from the ceiling yet.
The pair shouldn’t be here, not together;
their parents didn't want them to be.
That’s why they did what they did.
So they stand there, on top of the hill, looking at the graves.
“Are you ready?” The boy asks.
The girl waits a moment before responding,
“Yes.”
And the boy and girl walk away,
Apr 30
poem 0 comments challenge: Last

Imploration

This is your last chance.
I don’t write to you on a whim,
only with a bad circumstance,
as our future looks so dim.

My words might not make you enraged,
but I hope you try to take action,
as this is a battle we have all waged;
we are killing our home fraction by fraction.

Don’t try to ignore this plea,
or say that you don’t take part,
as you pour oil into our seas.
This isn’t something we can restart.

Don’t you see how we impact Earth?
Take a minute to look around,
try to decide everything’s worth.
Now imagine it all torn down.

This is might come tomorrow,
in a century or ten years.
The end won’t consist of flowers and rainbows,
but rather screams and guilty tears.

So to you whom I implore,
I have a request for you;
let’s stop all the hate and all the wars,
and come together to solve this issue.
Apr 13
fiction 0 comments challenge: One

Too Late

“Hi.”
“Not so good.”
“I just feel like I could’ve prevented it, like if I had tried harder…”
“But it is my fault. I saw her deteriorating, and I didn’t do anything to stop her.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Why must the world be so cruel? Why did it hammer her down until she couldn’t take it anymore? What did she ever do to deserve what happened to her?”
“I don’t know, okay? I keep asking myself these questions, and no matter how hard I try, or how hard I wish for her to be back, she never will.”
“She’s gone. I’ll never see her again.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? She’s gone! She’s dead, and her funeral’s tomorrow---”
“I don’t want to go, though. I don’t think I will be able to get through it.”
“I know I should do it for her, but she probably hates me. Who wouldn’t?”
“Yes.”
“You’re right.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll go tomorrow, but only if you go with me.”
“I just wish she was still alive.”
Apr 01

Duet

The cover of the old piano spatters a cloud of dust into the old theater air
as it creaks on its hinges and settles loudly atop the black and white antique.
A shuffle of papers, the screech of the stool across the aged wooden floor,
as the young man sits down and prepares to create 
the canvas for the girl to paint upon with her voice. 
He lifts a single finger, places it on a low note.
The deep vibrato echoes through the empty space of the abandoned hall,
bounces and reflects in the dark void like a ripple of water. 
The man keeps pressing the key, making a steady beat 
as the skeleton of their lullaby.
Slowly, slowly, slowly,
his fingers hit different notes,
jumping about the piano like rabbits in a field.
And slowly, the song begins.
Weaving throughout the room resembling a river of melodies,
sweet, soft patters of harmonies move together as one.

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