Oct 14

Autumn

Fragments of the earth
twirling in the wind,

asking to dance;
dance with them as they tell stories

of times that only they remember.

The brightest star,
casting an orange glow

setting over this land
that we have claimed as ours

but is the work of a million tiny hands
sculpting this earth as we know it.

And the scent of the air
sweet, crisp, raw,

the same as 
every year.

I carry you home,
tuck you into bed,

and you say you've wished on a star,
the first one you saw.

I follow your little finger out the window,
into the inky black of what's above

and I too see your star,
and the moon caught in the branches of the oak.

Goodnight, 
I love you,


and all now are asleep in this little town.
Aug 21

healing

white room
too white 
almost blinding to the eyes. 

broken mirror,
shards scattered, 
reflections lost 
to those who needed them.

i am here
and you are too, 
yet both just
silhouettes
memories.

memories 
traces in my mind,
as clear to the eye 
of these two souls,
or two souls. 
only
half-present here. 

do you 
have anything 
to give me?

something that will help me
to see a little bit
clearer?

looking over to you
face broken, 
lost,
like me.

how
did we come here? 

all too much,
thoughts,
are they mine?
through my 
head,
and voices,
thousands,
but there isn’t anyone here
nobody but me and you.
voices like crowds
enveloping me
through me like
i don’t exist.
do i exist?

and now,
i can see a shadow,
Aug 21

losing us

swimming
in a glass
half empty.
and i’m losing you.

the space between us
growing ever more 
apart.

but
as i lose you
i lose myself. 

and i can’t touch

can’t feel
how i 
loved you.

it seems so
far away now.

how it felt 
to be in sync
with every heartbeat.

but now
i’m just trying to remember how it felt
to have a heartbeat. 

i can see
your figure
blurred
around the edges. 

but your eyes
deep,
deep hazel,

and your hands, 
quivering,
trying to feel
anything
again. 

it feels
real,
what i see
but 
i can’t touch it.

it’s not really 
you.

i’m losing us.

mere ghosts
in 
a story 
that will never 
retell
itself. 
Jul 25

Two Lives Left

You feel the leather of the saddle under you and your feet secure in the stirrups before you’ve opened your eyes. Your head is heavy on your shoulders and there is a stinging sensation behind your eyes. It’s only until you go to rub your eyes that you realize you are, once again, clutching the reins tightly in your fists. You open your eyes, finally, to find the sun directly in your face. 

“Well, this is certainly not what I predicted the afterlife would be like!” You think, or say, you aren’t quite sure. 

The river is spread below you, and Rufus is standing still standing on the rock path that you had been on moments before. You look down at the riverbed over the cliff, trying to piece together what exactly had happened. It was quite a long drop, one that no─normalーperson would ever be able to survive. You wrack your brain for answers, and bits and pieces started to form into a sequence. 
Feb 13

beneath the surface - part 1

i passed her everyday,
both heading to homeroom.

her head was down,
like always.

her shirt is wrinkled like she's slept in it
for the past week.

her jeans are a size, if not more, too small,
and i've seen them on her almost everyday.

i think she used to wear makeup,
but it always looked rushed.
and this year she just didn't care, it seemed.

her undereyes were always dark
and her dark eyes foggy,
as if she hadn't slept for days
and was miles away.

and then this year
we were all so stunned when it came around:
that girl was caught with drugs in her bag.

she was always invisible,
on the outside.

she was always silent,
and her presence seemed just a whisper in the wind.

some people would talk about her offhand,
as if she wasn't like anyone else.
less of a person.
others just didn't care.
Jan 30

You are still here

Next to my shadow I see yours,
for a second.
We were here,
this beach,
just one year ago.
Feels like yesterday.

You are still here.

I can hear your laugh as gulls screech above.
You always hated the way your laugh sounded.

I can hear your voice,
calling for me,
in the cold spray throwing itself onto the sand.

I can hear you whisper
carried in the wind that whipped our hair into tangles
and left salty spray on our dry lips.

I can feel you next to me,
huddled, snug in each other's arms,
like we were when the sun was just about to go down,
just barely heating our bare, freckled shoulders
and covering the earth with a soft orange-pink glow.

And as the waves draw back,
pulling soft sand out from under my bare feet,
battered from hours of play we'd have here when we refused to wear shoes,
I can feel you slip away.

But yet,
Jan 29

enough

i remember one time
someone told my friend that carbs were bad,
and asked her why she brought a penut butter and jelly for lunch everyday.
carbs were out for a month, then, for her.

i remember one night
when i cried myself to sleep with each pulse in my head echoing
you need to try harder.
you need to be thinner.


i remember i also cried
after school that one day when my friend asked me
why on earth i brought a salad for lunch if i didn't like salad,
and why i made myself run
when it hurts like hell everytime.

i remember
trying on a bikini in a changing room,
hoping i wouldn't embarrass myself when i'd end up wearing in it.


i remember those days
when everyone around me would be putting themselves down,
those workout and healthy eating videos spreading around the internet,
those hours people would spend in front of the mirror.
Jan 17

try not to stare

there they were, in my public library.
i wasn't quite sure if it was,
but it was later confirmed as i saw them walking with a teacher from my school.
i sucked in my breath as i passed them,
and looked at the ground.
and behind the fiction section,
a clear veiw in between two books,
i tried not to stare.

before it came out,
they were a normal person in my school.
i didn't know them.
i didn't really think much of them,
and by that i really didn't have anything nice to say about them,
or really any reason to judge.

but they had a secret.
one that made me wonder
how on earth all the anger and hatred in our world has come to this.
one that kept the clock ticking in my head,
my eyes on my paper,
but at the same time,
very far away from it.
one that made local newspaper headlines burst.
one that kept us on the edge that whole week and beyond that,
Jan 13

the truth about where i stand

I have always questioned where I stand in school. I don't want to become separated. I don't want to have to hide anything or lie to any friend. I don't want to fall behind in school, and yes, I am a try-hard. But I also really, deep down, care about how I am viewed. Some of my friends now say to ignore the gossip, and that another group of girls are just not worth listening to while they talk behind people's backs. Which is why I pretty much dress like how many other girls my age do, and try to not say the "wrong" thing.

Here, I'm going to be brutally honest.
Jan 13

550 Words (I MAY have gone over...)

The wind plays with your hair and makes you want to swirl and fly along with it.
It’s the time when there’s a certain off-silence in the air, and a steady hum is in your ear,
composed of that unique orchestra of nature.
As the sun sets, the most true, vibrant colors paint the sky
and leak their light across the blanket of green spread below you.
As time wears, the colors fade and the vast space above is dimming to a dark blue,
that beauty almost making you forget what you had come for, what you’ve waited for.
The wind is biting a little bit stronger at your face and bare feet now.
Finally, a burst of tiny flecks illuminate the darkness.
You breathe in deeply, and raise your head to find the answers you’ve been waiting for,
written in the stars.

Pages