The Write of Life
7 days a week. 7 words. "He is the sun of my sky."
7 times, I read it, "the sun and the sky," wishing
candle light in the dark, moon rising over 7 seas.
Another someone's metaphor finding the write of
life. 7 dreams. I write it down, "He is the sun of
my sky."
He is the ocean of my soul. I sail 7 nights, a
sleeper in the waves, finding the high tide.
"You are the heart of a butterfly." He says. 7
more words are his. Seven universes I've flown to.
He is the beauty in the wings of our eagle song.
He is my write of life, filling the ink, moving
the pen over the words.
Every word dances. My thoughts are acrobatic.
Every message has a paper kite made of the reason.
I fly, to the arch of the rainbow in the rain. Soaring
through the moving clouds to the morning sun. He
fly's with me. We are One.
I have a story about seafoam...
I've only been to the beach once in my lifetime. But as bright and busy as it was, it remained my favorite place. In my dreams i would visit there in the dead of night and talk to the many who stood on the shore, or sat and let the waves wash over them. I can remember them all having interesting names but i could never retain any of them. I never saw the same person twice and at the end of each dream after a nice conversation and a new friend had been made, they would have to leave. I would wave to them as they entered into the ocean and lay down creating a bed of sea foam in their wake, until finally they'd dissappear but the seafoam would stay. Today i heard my brothers friends joke with him about the ocean saying things like "don't touch the seafoam or you'll be covered in mermaid." I didn't understand what he met until i looked it up. Turns out when mermaids die the turn into seafoam and float on top of the sea becoming one with the waves.
Nervous Habits
I am sitting in my bedroom alone biting my nails, chipping away at the memory of you. A part of me falls to the floor, and just like that I am less. Less of a woman, less of a person. I wonder if this makes you happy, seeing me disintegrate before your eyes. I pick the clipping off the floor, put it in my mouth, and swallow. It stings going down, but I suppress the pain, just like I have done so many times before. In the bathroom, I file my nails until they are as smooth as the bay on a windless day. Trying to smooth the bumps that you created. Trying.
Falling Star
She's all the stars in the sky to me, lighting up my darkness, warming up and filling the cold emptiness of my soul. She brings life to otherwise lifeless places, both near and far. But as I write this, I know she's trying not to fall. Her gravity is all that's stopping my endless spiral, but I'd spiral forever to keep her in the sky. Everybody knows a falling star burns up, and I can't let that happen. Losing her would plunge the universe into a dense, cold, darkness that would never end, never let us free. So I don't fall, because I know she'd follow. Even if her life, her love, wouldn't affect the world, I'd still do anything to protect her, because I can't let her burn. I can't let her suffer. She makes up my world, her elements in everything I see, running through my veins, filling my lungs, dancing in my eyes. I love her, I always will. So please don't fall, my love, please don't fall.
Ripped
She made mistake after mistake.
But the paper ripped when she tried to erase.
She trys to make work she is proud of.
But the paper ripped on the work for which she held no love.
The girl went up on the podium to give a speech.
But her paper ripped with a screech.
No second chances for your mistakes.
The paper rips when you try to erase.
Rich Little Stars
The wealthy bright stars spin around and around, overgorged and glowing from the wine that runs like a river into their cups. Little glowless stars flitter between them, filling their cups and plates, not able to rest long enough for their feet to stop throbbing in thick and tingling beats. Flittering and flittering like buzzy bees without the delicate yellow to give them character. They are clad in the black of funerals, hiding their glow so they don't catch the eye of a particularly horrible star and get dragged off to the next galaxy. That happened last fall, one particularly disgusting star grabbed a star and dragged her to the garden, resulting in a black hole that sucked up all the life and happiness from the room with her paranoid stare for months after. She was dismissed from the company after attempting to get justice and losing, the court mercilessly beating her down like a dog for questioning one of the most prominent star's morals. Now she flits around from place to place, her glow slowly fading as everyone pushes against her.