The Crossing (a drabble)
"An aluminum john boat?"
"It's a little different for everybody."
"Yeah, but, it's just a john boat. Like the one I got from Wal-Mart."
"Yep."
"So how does this work?"
"You get in. Don't fall out. We go across."
"So, what if I stay here?"
"Then you dwell in a place dear to you until you go insane. Those around you are driven into madness or despair, then they leave you behind. Best case scenario."
"What's the worst case?"
"Something finds you."
"You found me."
"I find everyone."
"What else is there?"
"Trust that there are worse things than death."
Untitled
And if in the time that's gone
I forget you and move on
Worry not, my faithless lover
You still live in both line and song
I hear you in the lyrics
I see you in the shows
I'd forgo all media
But you know how that goes
Every so often I cry
And feel the loss anew
There was such a time
When I saw only you
My heart is bound with wire
And walls protect it thus
But I have faith that it will heal
From the memories of us
Ascending
People don't fall out of
love or pictures
pulling straws out of a hat
but if their hearts are always searching
they don't coincidentially fall into each other
love doesn't fall out of time or into limbo
"falling" and "love" are oxymorons
You & I didn't "fall in love with eachother"
We ascended like the rising sun over the mountains
And together we share an upgrade of lifes promotion
Considerations
“You’d want to keep me. I’d want to be kept. What a disaster that would be.”
It felt like a devastating blow to her ego that she might want to belong to someone, with someone. She had maintained her autonomy for such a long time, and relished her independence.
“I like the idea of it, but I don’t consider the likelihood of such a thing having any kind of duration. I sometimes fantasize about someone being in charge, but ultimately I’m a bit of a control freak.”
“Well, you’ll need to let that go. Control is an illusion. Ultimately, we are leaves on the wind.”
“Watch how we soar.” She breathed the words through a smile more than spoke them, though he heard her.
“Is that part of a poem?”
She turned to him, incredulous.
“I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar? You seriously have no idea what I’m referring to right now?”
“No. Should I?”
“I aim to misbehave?”
“Ooh, now that sounds fun.”
She bit her lip and turned away. This wasn’t going to work after all.
Perception
You're sure roses are red?
That's just one point of view
Because what I see as ruby
Looks emerald to you
What you might call green
In it's variable hues
All looks the same
Until it strays toward blues
To cries of 'misrepresentation!
Flowers labelled askew!'
Well, to me there's no difference
Between violet and blue.
I've learned to adapt
I do fine, I make do
But I don't believe all that I see
To be true.
What we have become.
You can't have an opinion or original thought in this digital disaster we call Earth. Empathy is replaced by hostile comments on strangers “walls”. Walls that don't require wood, plaster or paint. Instead of sending flowers or gifts when a loved one has passed we send fake prayers through a keyboard. Lives are no longer kept behind closed doors by choice. Our heads are always in a cloud of pictures,jokes, remedies, and false information. We have become nothing because we actively seek out to learn nothing. This is how the human race has evolved. Right in front of our eyes, or screens.
Things I tell myself, waking up with her:
She'll be beautiful
When the night catches the day
When all the dreams she's left on my pillow
Begin to dance across my bedroom floor
To the music of our breaths
And the morning storms
And the wanting
No
The need to return
To those dreams
To those breaths
To dancing
Yes dancing
Again and again
When I
Her
The sun
Can take no more
Only the moon and my will
Wanes
Still
She'll be beautiful
With each ache
Each long drawn fit
Every arched trembling surprise
Her hair a perfect storm
And the dancing
Yes dancing
Even in her eyes
Oh how those dreams
Demand the notice
Of each waking moment
And each moment exists
Without the burden of time
She'll be beautiful
When I pull myself from this slumber
She always is
Fangirl - a drabble
She hummed as she stitched, the delicate thread whispering through the thick material with only the slightest of resistance. Tuneless and meandering, it had become a mantra, to keep her focused. Where she had started, the letters were large and messy, before space consideration and the proliferation of his content necessitated she become adept at her practice.
“Lalala
yes I am
your biggest fan
Indeed I am...”
When finished, he would appreciate the masterpiece he’d helped create.
Glancing at the screen, she copied the next line of prose meticulously onto her thigh, then devotedly pushed the needle into soft flesh.