When I looked into its eyes, I saw darkness. Hurt. Pain. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. It gritted its teeth, and I leapt back.

"Please"

"Don't hurt me"

"Get back"

"Don't touch me"

Its eyes spoke these words loudly. It couldn't move. The trap was shut tightly around its leg. I left and returned with a plate. On the plate, I put a few raw meat pieces. It touched it but didn't eat anything. I returned to my house. From the window, I saw how it ate the meat. I repeated this a few times until it let me close enough.

I rescued it from the trap. For a moment it danced around from happiness. It leapt in the air and chased its tail. Then, in the next moment, it collapsed in the snow, red blood puddle increased from it. I kneeled beside it. For a second our eyes met, and I saw gratitude and relief. Then its eyes fell dark and never saw light again. I buried it the next morning.

This sad, momentary happiness left an impact on me. I rethought my life. About its life. Such short bliss I had given it. But still - I had given the fox its last moment of freedom. It had died as a free and happy animal.

Everything is not what it seems.

In my world mixed signals are the norm.

They roll in waves,

a fog,

thick with the scent of subterfuge.

Up is down, yes is no, green does not mean go.

Words dipped in sugar contradict bitter energy,

served on a platter, pretty little pastries best left untouched.

I try to hide from the knowing,

but it’s always there to be read as easily as a book.

Even after all these years of being right,

I still doubt my ability,

because everything is not what it seems.

Pretty little pictures on a screen,

rotting from the inside,

Salvador Dali was a prophet.

What I’m trying to say is,

even if I don’t let on,

I know.

I know what you’re really feeling.

I don’t always understand the message,

let's be fair, neither do you.

Not everyone speaks their feelings in a known language,

but energy is universal.

So please remember,

I may pretend I don’t know,

but I do.

Everything is not as it seems.

I suppose it’s sad to know,

that our withering stories fade.

The love we found so eternal

Was nothing other than a charade.

Like the rose enamored by lust,

Born only in the darkened mud.

Colors of a feeble hold,

You called it ruby, and I called it blood.

We were made of daggers and knives,

Holsters hidden upon my thigh,

Whispers of kings and queens,

Echo softly as they die.

“The young eternal rose,

The kiss of a dying light.

The lies, they petal away

Fading fast into the night.”

I can’t recount the day,

When I saw a stranger in your heart,

yet I fear it happened slowly,

A glass sword tore us apart.

Darling roses are to die for,

but what I always said was true:

I’d rather have white dahlias,

and simply die for you.

Oh the knives in my eyes and the glistening daggers in your smile,

Made our fates a little more bearable.

For through veiled blackness, a glimmering, blood dripping rose

Made our ending less terrible.

#poetry #poet #poem #story #fantasy #love #roses #writing #prose #knives #daggers

“Life is an obstacle, it challenges your will to live and to do what is right.”

- My dad

If I could live my ideal life without any obstacles it would be great, I would be great, but I also wouldn’t be the person I am now. I would be weak and wouldn’t know how to face pain and hurt, I wouldn’t be as smart as I am from reading books, but if I had the chance I would change the world for the better. I would help everyone see the good that we bring and how the person beside you could be your best friend in another life.

In every fight, country to country, government to government, friend to friend, I would intervene. I would stand where I could be seen and speak from the heart.

“Fighting isn’t the answer, it only makes us weaker, unable to stand up and fight the real enemy, the one that eats away at us each time we battle another. The person you're arguing with could be your best friend in another life. They could be the man who saves your life tomorrow or the person who brings comfort when you are hurt, internally or externally. They could like the same things as you, but will you know if you keep avoiding their gaze and using words that hurt more than a punch?”

I would change the world and money wouldn’t mean a thing to me but I would have tons of it, from writing books to send people to other places far away from their troubles, to curing animals harmed by violence when people go too far.

My house would have books at every turn, filled with magic and animals. I would own horses, beautiful steeds just like those inside of the books and my parents would live until they were ripe and aged and would get to die peacefully in their bed one night. My family would all live within twenty minutes of riding a horse or bicycle.

My house would be huge, big enough to fit my closest friends and family and protect them. It would be made of wood but trees would be all around, providing shade and comfort. In the summer evenings I would sit under one of those magnificent trees, a horse grazing beside me, and a book in my hand, filled with kings and queens.

World hunger would end and everyone would have a home. I would be able to walk through the woods late at night and not be afraid because everyone would get along and hold no grudges.

-This world seems impossibly far away, especially with what the world is like now but I believe I could have a positive effect on life if I had the chance to gain a stage and not be afraid. Everyday I come up with different speeches, to change the minds of people. Everyone is put on earth for a reason we just have to find that reason and not be afraid to follow the path we chose when we find the beginning of that path into the woods.-

ripped red in

knuckles by Jack

Frost himself, and

ripped in

the wall I hit

with said knuckles.

Don’t know how

you fall through

knuckle cracks,

but here I am.

Delores:

Delores was tired. She had been tired for a long time now. Her 86 years on Earth had been a mixture of happiness, grief, and confusion, and looking back on it now, she loved every moment of it. She knew what was coming, she could feel it in the air these past few weeks. For a long time, death had loomed over her head. She was afraid of it, afraid of what could come after. She was partly religious but more spiritual than anything else. Still, in a secular world, she felt crazy sometimes for believing that there was something on the other side. She questioned herself on more than one occasion and had cried multiple times because she could not fathom life off this earth. Now, she felt silly, so silly for overthinking it all. Her time was coming and she had made peace with it. There was no more pressure to live. She had done all that already. She had learned, loved, and lived to the best of her ability. She had climbed mountains, raised three children, and danced her heart out. Her husband was gone now and her family far away, but she felt okay. Now, laying in bed in a quiet room, she didn’t feel so alone. She couldn’t quite describe it, but she no longer felt herself. It was as if the spirit inside her was ready to join the rest of the universe. After spending some time looking at photos and reliving the past 86 years, she closed her eyes for the last time. It was time to let go.

Johan:

Johan was afraid, he was afraid of dying. Ever since his diagnosis he had spent too much time in the hospital. He heard codes called over the speakers and knew the result when the nurses walked in with blank expressions. He was 43 now, and after 2 years in and out of the hospital, he knew he didn’t have much time left. The end was coming, but he wasn’t as scared as he expected to be. He asked to go home earlier this week, much to his doctor’s dismay. Dr.Fredricks was young and ambitious, he did not like failure. Sadly, that was exactly what Johan was, another life that could not be saved. Cancer was like that sometimes, it bested even the most strong-willed opponents. The air was heavy at home these past few days. His wife had cried enough for the both of them and his kids seemed to know that their time with their dad was limited. Why else would they spend so much time with him as opposed to their phones and videogames? In all honesty, he appreciated their company, because despite knowing what was coming he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to make peace with it all, but he was still afraid. After spending so much time undergoing chemo and surgery, he was sure he could handle any pain that death brought. The fear was no longer in the process itself, but what would come after. He wasn’t religious, he never had been. He didn’t know what to expect on the other side. His biggest fear was that it would be darkness, an endless oblivion. He wanted there to be something, yet he didn’t know what. As the weeks went on, he felt himself fading further from reality. It was getting close now. He expected it to happen at night, in the darkness, but it was midday. His wife was at work and his children at school. He wanted to make it to the bed but didn’t seem to have the energy. He rested his head on the couch and knew that it was time to let go. It was time and he wasn't afraid anymore.

Kelly:

Kelly was confused. She didn’t quite know what was happening. The last thing she remembered was fighting with her boyfriend in the car. She was so angry and then all of a sudden she wasn’t in control anymore. She opened her eyes to find two women looking frantic. She heard various words of assurance, but couldn’t quite piece the sentences together. She was 23, far too young for this. She wondered where Kyle was. Did he make it out of the car? She couldn't even remember why she was angry with him. She couldn’t remember anything from the incident. She tried to get up, but her body disobeyed her. She wasn’t in pain, though she suspected that it was the shock of it all. She watched as doctors filled the room, they looked terrified and she couldn’t imagine why. What was happening? Her mind couldn’t piece everything together fast enough, yet she felt okay. She wanted to reach out to her doctors and tell them the same thing. She didn’t quite know what was going on, but she knew it was her time. It was time to leave, time to let go. It was sudden and chaotic, but she felt okay. She hadn't lived long, but she wasn’t afraid of leaving so soon. She was more worried for those she’d leave behind. As the frantic voices around her faded away, she was able to find peace. It was warm and loving and she knew that everything would make sense soon enough.

Reader:

No matter who we are, death takes us eventually. We might be ready for it, or we may not be. No one knows what’s on the other side, but I hope that none of you feel afraid as we go. Whether we are young or old, we all must go some time. It can sometimes be a long process or come as a surprise. I trust that you all find peace in the process and live your precious time on earth to the fullest. My fellow humans, I love every one of you. Do not fear the end, for the present is what matters the most right now.

-Vee

Dear little me,

Don’t be glad to hear from me. I really don’t have anything to say to you. I could tell you what’s to come. Hype you up or let you down gently but I’m afraid whatever story I might tell will be fiction. Because I honestly do not know how the hell I got here.

Wait, maybe there are two advices I could give you. One, please start watching TV. Maybe that way your friends won’t be able to tag you ‘childhoodless’ just because you haven’t watched more than two disney movies and don’t know that ‘Sam and Cat’ was a show with Ariana Grande in it. Two, please find a place so deep in your heart to keep some of your innocence such that even you might get lost trying to find it. At least that way you will know it still exists.

For your life will soon get as complicated as anyone’s life can get. You are going to worry and wish a lot. Innocence will be the least of your problems so will homework.

Anyone who says they care might not but it’s going to be fine. I’m kidding, it’s not going to be fine. But there are good parts too. Just keep growing and you might see for yourself.

Love,

A defaced you.

PS: I’m still waiting for the letter from a future me. I hope she likes me enough to warn me of what’s to come, like I like you enough to. And I hope she has at least some of what she wished for.

PPS: This letter is for you and only you. DO NOT SHOW ANYONE (yes, including mum brainy. Don’t be such a baby.)

i.

they buried her in the concrete and slapped

a grave between two chevys. city

girl made of brick made of mold made

of shattered bottles and cracked floors.

they buried her in the concrete because

she wanted to feel the cars thunder above

her. she wanted to feel them roar. and roll. and

sputter and bellow and eat the earth.

ii.

when the moon glows white at night the

air is thick and heavy. like bread it

rises and like bread it is stagnant.

she had drowned every day in that air, drowned

like everybody else. drowned in so much

smoke and drowned in so much exhaust

and drowned in so much gas

that when they found her dead it was no

different.

she’d already died a hundred times over.

iii.

the countryside used to be a wide green.

so green it hurt her eyes. so green it could’ve

swelled up and skimmed the sky, bursting

into a million little pieces. she never

wanted to die. but she knew that when the

green started to fade her breath would soon

stutter too.

iv.

the night before city girl made of brick

was buried between two chevys the stars

stopped shining. the air hitched. it was too

late but still everything stopped. it was too

late but still everybody thought. still they

wondered if what they’d done to the earth

was ever worth it. if everything they had

killed was going to kill them.

Meeting with the Mistress

Anthony checked his watch as he stood on the sidewalk. Blurs of light from the headlights passed by him while he waited. Carla, where the fuck are you? Dank and musty air filled his nostrils from a worn, partially melted trash can near Ignitio’s Pizzeria, their usual meet up spot. Each minute after their scheduled time that passed made him more anxious. Fuck this, he thought, Chelsea will be home from work soon, I gotta get back home. Gritting his teeth, he turned to head home, regretting the fact that he would not be able to see Carla his brown haired mistress.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind him.

“I thought you were gonna stand me up.” Just as he turned around, he met her gaze. Kind, warm and trusting eyes met his, he couldn’t resist Carla.

“Let me guess,” she replied, “you were going to go back to that boring ass Chelsea huh?”

“Meaning my wife? Not just some boring ass female ya know, a female that could clean me out financially.”

“Oh,” she replied with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Papi, you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Quizzically; he looked at her face. Reality sunk in as a multitude of possibilities and scenarios buzzed around his head. “Soo why would I not have to worry?”

“This morning after you went to work, I went to your house. Usually, she starts the car and lets it warm up right?”

Visions of his wife’s daily routines entered Anthony’s head, he grew anxious.

“Well,” she continued, “I remember you said she’s scared of people so I waited until she came outside and ran up to her while she when she walked to the car, what’s it called? Xena-Xeno…”

“Xenophobia.”

“Yeah, so she stumbled back in the driveway and hit her head on the stoop, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way but it did! Zero chance papi! Zero chance that you and me will be caught, it looks just like a simple...accident.”

(This was written as a challenge to begin each sentence with the letters of the Alphabet from A-Z)

When I was a teenager, I was yelled at, a lot. I was told I was ugly, stupid, and unwanted.

It's hard to hear from a parent.

This parent was angry. Having never wanted children, she made sure I knew it and was gleeful in her insane hungover rampages, hungry for victims to her own misery.

It impeded me.

It took years of therapy to learn my own power in fighting against a tyrant. As I get older (I'm almost thirty - terrifying), I realize that I can do pretty much what I want, within reason. I can be whoever I want, no matter what anyone says. Even an authority figure with power over me. I can be free.

What's beautiful about this freedom?

Recently, I've made some big life choices. I moved and got a puppy. These are two things I never thought I'd do. I was always told not to be happy, that life is misery and then you die.

But what's cuter than a corgi?

The beauty in this world resides in overcoming the past, and pushing through to the present. Having dinner with friends at the new place, taking my puppy for a walk around the block. Nothing feels better than having strangers 'ooh' and 'ahh' at my adorable two-month old.

Nothing feels better than being free of what you thought you were.

To me, what's beautiful about life is that you can make it what you want. It gets easier as you get older. It took me twelve years of therapy to realize that I am a worthwhile human being, not useless, ugly, and stupid. I am my own entity.

What's beautiful about life is that it can only get more beautiful, the more opportunities to be happy you present yourself with.

It gets so, so much better. Remember that the haters don't live in a beautiful world.

But you can.