strands of her hair

f a l l out in waves

her (but not really) black hair—

colorless—

doesn’t even want to live on her

body anymore

doesn’t even want to protect her

anymore

she trips &

loses (but not really) balance

in the waves of

the ocean

.

the ink spills out of my veins

in thick gushes

small rivers . on paper that doesn’t bleed

the only way

that I can communicate at times

so you don’t rip the words from my skin

but instead you read from my soul

my fingers are stained . but pen is never broken

dripping scarlet tears

turning words into sounds

making you hear a voice

centered around . a barely focused heart

.

Build a bridge just to burn it down

Hearts that break without a sound

Punch and fight because it’s war

You've been waging since you were four

Innocence crucified on a cross

Around your neck; you carry on your back

All the ones you sacrificed

It’s been years but you carry on

As you pour it all into a song

Saddle up and ride that horse

Till it dies then find one more

Cowboy up and load your guns

Give yourself for the ones you love

Heart of stone and bullet proof

So no one knows what you've been through

Say a prayer then curse the day

Opening eyes to all this pain

You've got a choice no room to fail

Heavens gates somtimes border hell

But you were built for whiskey rounds

Throw em back. Fill a hole deep inside

Never forget that what you lack

Was your hearts desire all along

Then pour it all into a song

Saddle up and ride that horse

Till it dies then find one more

Cowboy up and load your guns

Give yourself for the ones you love

Heart of stone and bullet proof

So no one knows what you've been through

Use to have a noble cause

Bring back all the ones you loved

They were lost and left behind

Now you see them through open eyes

It'll never be like it should

Like devastation after floods

You can’t carry the weight they have

We each have to dance along

Through these storms

So saddle up and ride that horse

And when it dies hang up your spurs

Fire off one last round from your guns

A dedication to the ones you love

A heart of stone is never bullet proof

It's just the weight that will bury you

help us to know where we are

fragile people

paper

thin and breaking

sorry for talking

with words

crashing

I still feel it

the way the day crawls towards evening

the slow, steady pull of the hours towards the close of the day

and the days they roll on

these days away from you

I hear every day

the echoes of all the words I never said

those charged silences as we felt each other slip away

away from foolish hope

away from what we cherished

I feel you near

my heart breathes life into your memory

your absence like a shadow that clings to me daily

so far apart and yet

together until the end

_

the sun has fallen. the sky is dark, pitch black except for the thousands of stars and the crescent moon that glimmers in the night. and still, she is searching for him. her eyes burn with tears and each step is her dragging her feet across the ground, each breath is her gasping for air, for anything that could rid her of this dream of this illusion. because it has to be a dream, he can’t be dead. but her naked arms (just like that time before she met him) tell her otherwise. she was too late. and he was gone. but she doesn’t want to acknowledge that.

she is still moving. can barely see a thing in the dark but that doesn’t stop her. she needs to see him. she aches for him. will push and push forward with all her might, all her strength and nothing less, till she can find him. she had to.

a stumble, a wrong-footing and with a sudden cry, she falls flat on her face. the stone scratches her skin and scrapes her face. she curses under her breath, the hand on her stomach wound pressing harder. it hurts. but, it hasn’t started to bleed so it should be fine. it’s not the first time this has happened. she fell numerous times and she isn’t about to let this be her last. she rolls herself on to her back, focus her magic on her feet just until she could feel a tingle then jumps and steadies on her feet. her magic has been restoring up, a slower rate then she would’ve liked but it would have to do. the first thing she did as soon as she felt her magic return was to heal her wound, but she doesn’t have enough so she was only managed to stop the bleeding but it would have to do. anything that could let her get to him faster.

but for the moment, she lets herself breathe. her head feels lightweight, probably for the loss of the magic she just used. lets herself calm down for a second then she is moving forward agian, but something makes her halt in her steps, something that catches her eyes as moonlight washes over the area. and there’s a knot in her stomach that twists and clenches, but she turns away from the sight, rips her eyes away and turns her back to the scene and with a swallow, she moves forward.

there was a body laying on the floor, just a few feet from where she fell. another familiar face. klein. she knew him. an acquaintance, someone she knew from the academy. a hazy, old memory but somehow remembers it vividly that time he helped her with an assignment, another time she saw him smiling, happy. she wasn’t really close to him. but it doesn’t make seeing his him like that hurt any less. doesn’t stop her mind rush back to the other dead bodies she came across. a friend, another friend, a senior, a teacher, a mother, a child, and she thinks back to the battlefield. how her suddenly disappearing would cost a life of someone. cost lives.

but tells herself they would understand, the bond of a dragon isn’t something light. then, tells herself she really doesn’t care about the others, about the war. only he matters– only evan matters.

then tells herself, evan can’t be dead. he has to still be alive. repeats it in her head, a thousand times.

tells herself that the nausea feeling in her stomach isn’t guilt, a thousand times.

only, it is.

only, he is dead.

only, she cares.

(and sometimes a thousand lies is enough to shatter her world and tore her from within)

-

at times things work as they should

falling smoothly

into their natural state

but sometimes

and more and more

these days

they fall out of place

I need to know why

I reach my hand under the cavity

a hollow chamber

don’t scream

open your chest

let the hand slip further

ten layers of skin

I slide my fingers

past the ribs and count my bones

all here,

no reason to dread

what is really fear?

the blood still flows

you’ll be okay

someday child, someday

I touch the tissue just under my lungs

a pumping muscle beats

I heard that word before

people describe it as a heart

describe the motion

stretch and expand

repeat

stretch and expand

stroke the matter

but careful, it feels

a purple heart shows its colors

too obvious to hide

it’s soft but wrong

damaged tissue likes to bleed

why is the floor all red?

remember about the lungs

rise and fall

again!

rise and fall

oxygen soothes the pain

the purple color infects my veins

but I have to stay strong

pick up those pieces

you know what this means

I tell myself a simple truth

about that once crimson flesh

that if it was blue, it would be too late

but the blood still flows

and the core still beats

because there ain't nothing wrong with purple

when you need to heal

*

As I wander through my darkest nights

I wonder what light is like

Sitting on concrete , dark as can be

My mind plays tricks on me

Thinking of life as sugar and sweet

But all I see is bitterness and discrete

Parts of my mind become separate

And my souls leaves me helpless

Can I escape? Or will I get caught?

From the holders that keep me in this sought

My head is telling me to stay near

But my heart is saying break out of here!!!!

I followed my heart , I took the bait , I ran out of this scary place

The people heard , they grabbed the guns

My Mind said surrender

But my heart said run

I ran and ran as fast as I can

Until I ended up in someone’s hands

They knocked me out until I saw red

And I ended up back at the place I fled

I opened my eyes and started crying

Begging and pleading to stop me from dying

They followed my plead

And tied me to a tree

They whipped me until I fell onto my knees

I tried so hard , not to be weak

But that’s when the tears started falling to my feet....they picked me up and dragged me back to that dark scary place they call a shack

Where the shackles are that’s where I hang knowing in my mind I’ll never escape BUT MY HEART TELLS ME DIFFERENT THINGS

“Today I will be happy.”

That’s how each page starts. That’s how each day starts.

“Today I will be happy.”

It’s perfect. Hanni never has to think. She could. If she wanted, she could think. But why? It’s all written so well. When you’re born you’re given your book. The story of your life. What you will decide to eat every day. How many errands you’ll run. The people you’ll meet. Who you like. Who you hate. All of it foretold for you. Your first day of school. Your wedding day. The day you get your wisdom teeth pulled. The birthdays. The sick days. The lazy days. The memorable moments. All written down. Black and white. Clean page after neat, clean page.

And, “Today I will be happy,” atop every one of them.

“Today I will be happy.”

Hanni stretches. Because that’s what her book says.

“Today I will be happy. And to start today I stretch.”

She scratches her cat, Jax, behind the ears. She showers. Eats eggs. Makes her bed. Hanni dresses for work. She grabs a bottle of water and an apple and is out the door. Because that’s what her book says. And each day is just like this.

“Today I will be happy.”

Stretch. Cat. Shower. Eggs. Clean. Dress. Water, apple. Work. Stretch. Run. Relax. Read. Bed. Sleep. Happy. Stretch. Cat. Shower. Eggs. Clean. Dress. Water, apple. Work. Stretch. Run. Relax. Read. Bed. Sleep. Happy. Stretch. Cat. Shower. Eggs. Clean. Dress. Water, apple. Work. Stretch. Run. Relax. Read. Bed. Sleep. Happy. Stretch. Cat. Shower. Eggs. Clean. Dress. Water, apple. Trip.

Wait. Trip?

Hanni trips. She glides down her front steps like every other day. Her office is 8 blocks from home. And at the third block, Hanni trips. Her arms reach out in a quick attempt to save herself, but it’s too late. She had never planned on tripping. The apple rolls to her right and her water bottle and book fly into the street. A car passes over the bottle and water explodes in every direction. And Hanni’s heart breaks. The book is drenched. She can’t remember seeing this in the book ever. She can’t remember anyone ever ruining their book. Hanni snatches up her book and returns home. No one calls to see why she’s not at work. No one has a book that says she will not be at work. Her life was simple. She had skipped ahead several times and she knew that she was happy. Her life, happy and unremarkable. She would stay happy and healthy until retirement. At which time Jax would pass. She would be happy though because he lived a long, happy life with her. And she would take her retirement money and travel. A new city to be happy and stretch and make the bed in every year until she died herself.

Unremarkable but happy. She could keep going on. She mostly knew the plan. After all, it was unremarkable...

Tomorrow Hanni would wake up and continue the way she had been.

Today I will be happy.

And Hanni’s doorbell rings. Before her eyes are even open, her doorbell rings. That has never happened before. She opens the door and finds a new book on her steps. A red ribbon tied around its leather bound pages.

This book does not say she will be happy.

This book is empty but for one page.

The words are scrawled in her own writing.

They are not neat. They are not even straight or centered. There are splotches where it looks like someone may have not only spilt coffee but also cried. And along the edges someone has inked in little roses and vines. And somewhere in the mess, in Hanni’s own script is just one message.

“Today I will live.”