cup: 2
Norma
He happened on a Monday. It was unconventional, yet in a way, perfect. Why do I remember, well because it rained that day. Lightly at first, small patters against my skin, and then in heavy waves: it was beautiful. And the beauty of the rain intensified when -for the second time that day- he approached me.
My eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, and I pushed myself up against the wall. His eyes held wonder and curiosity as he looked at me, and I felt something stir in my stomach. I wasn't sure what the feeling was, but it made me agree to his proposal of going home with him instantly. Pushing myself off the ground, I gathered the little things I had and realised too late that he had reached his hand out to help me. Feeling a bit awkward, I clutched the bear tighter to me and waited for him to lead the way. I watched as his mouth fixed itself into a perfect 'o', and he began to walk down the street.
Not long into the walk, he stopped us as if he had just realized something. Beginning to take off his jacket, he asked me if I was cold but I declined as I tightened my grip on the bear. A sinking feel bubbled in my stomach as we entered the underground train station, I can't get on a train. I wanted to stop walking, but every few seconds he would turn around to make sure I was still following him. He gave me his pay card for access, while he hopped the turn-stop when the officer wasn't looking. We didn't have to wait long for the train, and we boarded the car easily.
I wanted nothing more than to scream when the doors closed, to get off and never get back on. But I sat with my eyes screwed shut, knees bouncing, and a death grip on the stuffed animal. The train came to a lurching halt, and I think I screamed. Covering my ears, I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and tried to block out sounds that weren't there. I rocked as the man tried to get me to calm down, but the train had started moving again. When the carriage stopped moving again, he ushered me off and we began to walk again.
He didn't ask questions, just looked back occasionally to make sure I was still behind him. We finally reached an apartment building, and he seemed nervous as he unlocked the door. In an exaggerated push, he opened the door and invited me in.
"This is my tiny, yet beloved home," he said, stepping inside as he dropped his bag to the floor.
For a moment, I hesitated outside of the door, before going in after him. Was coming home with a complete stranger a good idea, probably not, but it was better than behind a dumpster. I closed the door with a small click, and peered around the main room. A tan velvet couch was pushed against the far wall, a coffee table in the middle of the room, and a small flat screen TV on a stand in the corner. It was as minimalistic as a magazine photo.
"It's nice," I commented as I looked around one more time.
"Thank you. Uhm, just make yourself at home, I'm gonna get dinner started."
He walked into what I assumed to be the kitchen, and I wandered about the spacious room. Sitting on the couch, I had let my hands run over the soft material. I wouldn't mind sleeping here. A couch, I couldn't remember the last time I had slept on one, but it's been too long. As I leant back against the cushions, my small backpack crinkles against my back. I slid the straps down my arm, then removed the bag from underneath my shirt.
Heavy footsteps made me jump up from the couch, and the guy leans back as he stares at me. I blinked a few times, then lowered my defensive stance as we made eye contact. Tilting his head a bit, he studied me in a way that I became frozen in my place.
"I don't remember you having a backpack," he said, taking a step toward me.
"I kept it, under my shirt," I replied, still transfixed by his gaze. "My stuff is in here, it isn't much though."
I go to open the bag, but he stopped me and said he doesn't need to see.
"So what's your name?"
"Norma-Jean, and you?"
A smile graced his face at that, and his eyes glinted in the yellow light of the room.
"Pen," he said.
"Pin," I asked, and his smile dropped.
"No, Pen."
"Isn't that what I said, pin?"
"P-en, not p-in."
I nodded, even though I still didn't know if he meant a writing utensil or something that holds things up. He asked me what I wanted to eat, and my automatic answer was food. My stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of eating something, well, edible. Living off my own spit as well as here and there meals, whenever I could scrap up money was not adequate at all. Pen, what I guessed his name is, smiled at me and went back into the kitchen. With a huff, I sat back down and picked up the plastic bag. I hadn't had some of these things in so long, it was like buying candy for the first time.
Pen came back into the front room with two plates in his hands, then set them on the coffee table. I couldn't help but laugh at what he had prepared for us, and it earned one from him as well. Grilled cheese and French fries, a simple yet glorious meal. He went to the kitchen again shortly, bringing back glasses of milk for us to drink. I thanked him as I slid to the floor, and he gave me a funny look as he stood above me.
"Why are you sitting on the floor," he asked.
"So I can reach my food easier," I said, putting a fry in my mouth.
He made a face that said 'makes sense' as he bobbed his from one side to the other, then sat down beside me as he began to eat as well. We ate in complete silence, like it was perfectly normal for two strangers to eat together. I would glance over him a few times, and he was just happily eating his food. My plate was finished long before his, and he looked at me like he had never been more impressed. To be courteous, I tried to take the plates after he finished and he politely took them out of my hands.
"You're a guest, Norma-Jean, you don't have to do anything," he said, standing up from the floor.
"It's the least I could do right now," I replied, moving to sit back on the couch when something stopped me.
My pants had to be filthy, and I had sat on a clean couch. With wide eyes, I turned to look at the spot where I had been and sighed in relief. The soft material was free of any sort of dirt that might have come from me, and I stood from the floor to check for the same thing. Pen came from the kitchen once again, and I asked him could I use the bathroom. He shrugged as he wiped his hands on a towel, then pointed me down the hall. I thanked him, then darted toward where he had gestured with my plastic bag in hand.
Stripping out of my pants, I flung them into the tub and turned on the water. Instantly the water became dirty as it hit the fabric, and I couldn't believe I had ever been that filthy. Using the soap I bought, I began to scrub the pants clean as the water ran down the drain. The water felt amazing on my hands, so once I finished cleaning my pants, I turned the shower and climbed in after getting naked. My eyes rolled back at the sensation, and I just stood under the water as it cascaded down my body. How long had it been since I had a proper shower?
I reached for my towel and soap to wash my body, and relished in the feeling of cleaning myself. Hot water stinging my skin as the soft surface of the towel scrubbed against it, was like shedding an old layer of skin. My body felt relaxed, and my skin didn't feel dry or flakey anymore. Just because I could, I washed up three more times and then washed my hair. There was so much dead hair, I could have cried.
As I stepped out of the shower, which hurt my heart more than it should have, there was a hard knock on the door. I wrapped my towel around my body, and cracked open the door a bit to see Pen standing on the other side. He looked worried, but when I opened the door his face relaxed.
"You're alright," he sighed, and he leaned against the door frame. "I thought, I don't know, you were gonna kill yourself."
"No!" My eyes grew wide at his words, and I shook my head vigorously. "The shower, it just felt so good, I'm sorry. I haven't had one in so long, I didn't want to get out."
He nodded in understanding, and then began to play with his hands. Pen glanced to the side, as if he were thinking of something then back at me. I opened the door a little wider, and he kept playing with his hands. Finally he looked at me again, and I tilted my head in expectation.
"How long have you been homeless," he asked, shifting his gaze away from me once more.
"Three months," I said, not surprised by his question at all.
Standing up straight, Pen drew in a deep breath and kept his eyes away from me. His cheeks had turned a light shade of red, and his hands never stopped moving. If I had to guess, he seemed embarrassed. Then word soup came tumbling from his mouth, all in one breath.
"Would you like to stay here, until you find a job and place to live? I wouldn't mind at all, cos this place gets kind of lonely, and it'd be nice to have a roommate."
I blinked a few times to let his words sink in, then I thought it over for a moment. To be truthful, I wanted to jump into his arms and scream yes in his face but I also wasn't sure. Having a place to stay would have been nice, but I didn't want to be a bother to him. Even with the hopeful stare he was giving me (his eyes trained on my face with an odd intensity) I hesitated to answer as I tapped my fingers against the door. There were so many pros and only a few cons I could think of to staying there, but the cons became a reality in my head. Still, I gave Pen a small smile as I nodded my head yes.
"If it won't be too much trouble for you, I would love to stay here," I said, and his face broke out into a wide grin.
"Great, cool, awesome," he smiled, clapping his hands together. "Well I'm off to bed. I pulled the bed out of the couch for you, and there's a pillow and blanket at the foot."
"Thank you, I really appreciate it. Goodnight, Pen."
His whole face lit up as he exclaimed that I got his name right. I laughed, because it was like a little kid trying candy for the first time.
"And it's no problem at all. Goodnight, Norma-Jean."
He began to walk away, then stopped as if he'd forgotten something. When he turned to look at me again, his face was once again a shade of red as he played with his hands.
"Um, hey, Norma-Jean," he said in a quiet tone.
"Yes, Pen," I smiled, and his face deepened in color.
"Your towel fell."
My eyes grew wide, and I looked down to see that I was in fact uncovered. I didn't scream or freak out about being him seeing me bare, I just slowly closed the door and put my warm face in my hands. That must have been so awkward for him, talking to me while I was full out naked. With a deep breath, I got dressed in clothes again and went back to the front room. Setting my things on the side of the couch, I climbed into the pullout bed and rolled around on it. A bed. For as long as I needed, it was all mine. I thanked Pen silently as I lay down, and an easy sleep followed soon after.
cup: 1
Pen
She happened on a Monday. It's something I will never forget, because the sky was a shade of blue I had never seen before. Dark, warm, and clear, it painted the city line with soft delicate strokes. The sight was so beautiful, that it saddened me to have it disappear as I entered the tube. My slow pace picked up once I hit the platform, and I rushed to catch my train.
Bustling my way onto the carriage, I hung on to the overhead railing as there was nowhere else to sit. I towered over many of the passengers, and was able to see the array of pigments clumped together in the car. Every face unique from the one next to it, and lives vastly different from the others. All of them had a story, with pages bent, stained, torn, and frayed. My story, well, I added a new chapter that day.
Once the train came to a halt at my stop, I trudged off, back on to the platform with my hands in my pockets. I moved with the small crowd of people going up the stairs, and emerged back into the dull sunlight of the early afternoon. The light warmth caressing my cheeks as I walked the along the smooth pavement. People in trench coats, suits, dresses, and jeans, darted by me in every direction, and I couldn't help but notice them all. They were all so flushed to get wherever they were going, not once looking up, that they didn't take time to appreciate each other.
Every person seemed to be moving at the speed of light, heads down with arms close to their stiff bodies. They didn't stop to greet other passer-byers, or even a smile of acknowledgment, just going. None of them took time to witness the beauty of the other people around them, moving with purpose instead of ease. All too impatient, bound by time, to relish in the wonder around them. Too busy, even, to just glance up at the sky.
A woman in green pushed a stroller hurriedly past, dropping a small bear on the ground in the process. In the time I had bent down to pick the bear up and return it, she had already been lost in the sea of people on the sidewalk. Only shaking my head, I continued on my way --bear in hand-- until I came across a girl in an alley. This was the first time I had seen her, the second will come a few hours later.
Her hair seemed just as wild as the look in her wide brown eyes, and her face smudged with dirt. From my vantage point, I stood and watched as she sat the mouth of the alleyway, begging strangers for money. No one stopped. Something within me stirred, and to this day I have no idea what that feeling was. Pity, privileged guilt, or even a simple case of butterflies, I can't be sure, but it was something. And that something made my feet move toward her, the bear in my hand suddenly on fire as I approached her. The action thoughtless as I squatted down in front of her, and her leaning away in either fright or surprise.
Not able to gather words to say, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Forty dollars and a forgotten teddy bear, is what I gave her on our first meeting. She nodded her thanks, her chap lips slightly parted as she stared at me. I stood to my feet and began on my way once more, looking back once to see the girl clutching the bear to her chest. My gaze returned to the sky, and the blue still splashed the sky in its vibrancy.
Again a ripple of sadness came over me as I left the beauty behind, and entered the steel gym doors. I was greeted my many people as I strode through the building, until reaching the back door to the locker room. Tossing my bag on a bench, I change out of my regular clothes into gym shorts. With a deep breath, I go through another set of doors to the back of the gym. I tighten the white wraps on my hand, and claimed a red bag hanging from the ceiling.
"When are you actually getting in the ring," a gruff chuckle came from across the room.
"I don't fight, we've talked about this," I replied, taking my stance as I lined myself with the bag.
"You've got history, blah, blah, blah."
I chortled to myself as I shook my head, then threw a few punches at the bag. Trying to focus my thoughts and energy, I hit the bag harder and the chain rattled with each blow. It rattled, I punched, and the more it rattled the more I punched. My blows became harder, and I didn't control the force going into them. So when the chain snapped, it made me jump back in surprise as the bag hits the wall a foot away.
Great, now I gotta pay for that.
A low whistle broke my angry thoughts, and I turned as the old man approached me. He stopped next to me, and I look back at the bag as my chest heaved. My breathing had been sparse when I was using the bag, so I struggled to bring it back to normal.
"That's the third one this month, Boy," he grumbled, hands deep in his pockets.
"I know, Old Man," I huffed, running a hand through my hair. "More rent money out of my pocket."
"Chain was rusty anyway, was bound to happen, so don't worry about this one."
He began to walk away, and I furrowed my eyebrows at his back. The man said the same thing last time, that I didn't have to pay for it being broken. I couldn't have that kind of debt to pay.
"Let me pay for them," I called after him.
"No," he hollered back.
Blowing air out through my nose, I knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of metal. Once I threw them away, I sat the bag up against the wall and began to hit it again. I felt sweat dripping down the side of my face, but didn't stop to wipe it as I continued to relieve my stress. When I stopped, my arms felt tired and my fists almost numb. Finally wiping the sweat from my forehead, I got a drink of water then grabbed a jump rope.
Old Man came to stand in front of me as I jumped backwards, and I closed my eyes to ignore him. Since I began coming here, which had only been four months ago, he gabe me this speech on why I should box. And each time he gave me the speech, I turned him down, today wasn't any different.
"I'm just saying, Boy, you could be great," he said, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Not gonna happen, I've been clean this long, not going back now," I replied, eyes still closed as I jumped.
"Just think about it, that's all I ask."
I stopped jumping, and opened my eyes to stare into the brown eyes of his. For the first time, I actually agreed to it. Not because I would do it, but because it would get him off my back for awhile. His bag ridden eyes brightened, and a small smile formed on the corner of his mouth. With a pat on my back, Old Man walked away with a pep in his step and I shook my head. I gave him false hope, I knew I was never fighting again.
Deciding it was time for me to go, I put away the jump rope and picked up the punching bag. I carried it over my shoulder to the equipment room, and tossed it next to its broken friends. As I walked back to the locker room, I gave a small wave to Old Man and went on my way. Changing back into my street clothes, I slung my bag over my shoulder and exited through the gym. I glanced up at the sky, and it had darkened considerably. Still beautiful, but now a more familiar shade of blue than before. With a deep intake of breath, I began my walk back to the train station.
For the second time that day, I saw her. The teddy bear sat beside her as she leant her head back against the brick wall, and a plastic bag gripped tightly in her hand. Her face had been cleared of the dirt, and her shirt was different from the poor excuse of torn cloth before. As I neared her position, a warm droplet hit my skin and I looked at the back of my hand. Rain.
When I glanced back at the girl, her face was toward the sky as slow drops beaded her brown skin. I watched her as she embraced the weather, and then it began to pour harder. The precipitation pelted my body, but I stood still to stare in awe at the unnamed woman. Because when the rain picked up, she did not try to cover herself from it, instead parted her lips and smiled. She was beautiful, and she loved the rain.
"Let me bring you home," I said, the words flying out without even a second thought.
Her eyes opened wide and wild, and she pushed herself back into the wall. A piece of hair sticks to her forehead, and I frowned as I felt the need to fix it.
"Okay," she whispered, and I was surprised at how easily she agreed.
I extended my hand to her, but she ignored it as she pushed herself up from the ground. Wouldn't take my hand, but accepted a place to stay from me without hesitation: interesting. She collected her things, then stood and stared at me before I realised why she was waiting. A soft oh sound left me, and I began walking again with her trailing behind me. The rain continued to pour down, and it took us halfway to the station before something else dawned on me.
"Take my jacket, you're probably freezing," I said, beginning to take of the already soaked material.
"I'm fine, but thank you," she spoke quietly.
So we walked in silence until we reached the tube, then descended underground into the station. My footsteps echoed off the stone walls, while hers seemed to not be present at all. I had to check behind me a few times, just to make sure she was still there: she was. Letting her use my card to pay, I hopped the turn-stop when I knew the guard wasn't paying attention. My pace picked up after that, so I rushed her to the platform and away from the entrance.
We boarded the train, and took seats anywhere as the cart was quite empty. An elderly woman in a head wrap sat next to a man with a briefcase, who upon closer inspection seemed to be mumbling to himself, were our only other riding companions. The woman sat across from me, with the teddy bear on her lap and plastic bag next to her. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her grasp on the stuffed animal was tight as her leg bounced up and down in rapid succession. It worried me as to why she was doing it, but I didn't think to ask until her eyes flew open at the sudden lurch of the train.
"Get me off of this thing," she cried, and I moved to sit next to her.
"It's only a delay," I said, my voice as calm as possible. "Are you okay, what's wrong?"
She shook her head, while leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, and covered her ears. I didn't touch her, but made sure to keep her shielded from the watchful eyes of the other passengers. Once the train stopped again, I ushered her off and collected our bags from the seats. Lucky for us, it had been the stop we needed to get off of, and she seemed to relax after getting off the train. The bear is clutched tight to her abdomen, and her steps were more cautious as she walked. It was like the ground was a mine field, and she had to carefully place her feet as to not set any off.
Again my footsteps were louder and heavier than hers, and I felt like a barbarian compared to her ballerina steps. We reached my apartment building, and I slowly unlocked the door. I took a deep breath as I stepped to the side, and threw door open as I welcomed her inside.
The Silent Beat of a Butterfly’s Wings
It was when the animals and insects roamed the land with ease, that the butterfly was considered the most beautiful creature in the land. He flew with such grace, such elegance that all the land would stop as he flew by. The vibrant colors of his wings, captivating the eyes of every animal he passed, seemed to glow in the everlasting sunlight.
Butterfly was so confident in himself, that he would beat his wings loudly to assure that everyone watched as he passed by. And did the animals watch; every time butterfly flew by the noise of his wings would make them gaze about in wonder. He did this every day, and each time the other animals would watch but it was no longer in awe of his beauty. Instead they would stare in blatant annoyance, butterfly did not notice because all knew is that they were staring at him.
The other animals had become annoyed in butterfly’s arrogance, and fox decided to call a meeting to discuss their mutual irritation. In a clearing all the animals met, fox sitting in the centre.
“Comrades,” fox boomed, quieting the other animals’ chatter. “We are here to discuss a common disinterest: butterfly is getting out of hand. He has begun to be rather rambunctious in his efforts to gain our attention, flapping his wings so loud that we hear him before we see him.”
There was a cry of outrage from the rest of the animals, and then silence when fox called for it.
“We all agree that he needs to be stopped, and so I have a plan. When we hear butterfly coming, we will not turn around to look at him. Let him fly by without our acknowledgment, the more we do this, the faster he will realise his erroneous way.”
Soon after the meeting came to an end, and the animals dispersed. The next day butterfly did exactly as the other animals had predicted, flapping his wings loudly to gain their attention. Butterfly slowed in his flight pattern when he realised no one was looking at him. Beating his wings harder, he tried to become louder yet no one turned around. With a huff, he flew away as he wondered why they did not admire his beauty. Maybe he was not loud enough.
For the next week, butterfly would flap his wings louder than before, still there was no acknowledgment of the little insect. Becoming quite flustered with the situation, butterfly decided to talk to one of the bigger animals. He spotted fox, who was hunting on the edge of the forest, and stopped to ask her.
“Why do the other animals ignore me,” he cried as she was about to pounce on her prey.
She growled in frustration as she turned on the smaller creature, then raised her head as she spoke. “You are vain, only interested in your looks, wanting everyone to admire you all the time. Rid yourself of vanity, and maybe then you will be appreciated once more. Now leave me, before I have you as the lunch I missed.”
And from that moment on, there was only the silent beat of the butterfly’s wings.
Moral: Sit down, be humble.
My Future Ex-Lover
She was destruction masked in beauty
A stem of thorns without the rose
The most painful of heartbreaks
Going by many names but her own
But my favorite to call her,
Was mine.
With ease was the way she moved
Hips swinging to their own beat
The ground she walked upon, made of gold
A smile, as radiant as the sun, on her face
She was everything good in the world
But then we collided.
Not physically, but nonetheless we collided
In the likeness of two charged atoms
Mentally and emotionally
For the time, we became one
One entity, one being, one-way path to implosion
Because I never knew she was unstable.
She was unstable and I made her my foundation
Thinking she was going to say forever
Until I came crumbling down
In the blink of an eye
She had completely ruined me
And I loved the pain.
There was no going back
Like the whirlwind she was
She came into my life and left it in an instant
In her wake laid the pieces of me
Even so, I was content within the wreckage
Lucky to be destroyed by someone as beautiful her.
She was the perfect storm.
#freeverse #poetry
Pretty Hurts, Beauty Wounds, Perfection Kills
In beauty pageants since the age of five
She diets to keep her figure right.
Without fail, she wins each contest
Looking nice and thin, in a skin tight dress.
A smile on her face, once again she's won first place.
She's beauty, she's grace
She's Miss United States!
Thinner than she's ever been
Finally having the ultimate win.
How hard she's trained, the world now knows her name.
Her diet payed off
The diet that consisted of pills, and eating small meals.
First it was one to get the job done.
Then two worked better and the dizziness had begun.
Somehow it became three, and hallucinations she began to see.
In the end, it was four.
Police come breaking down her door
There she was on the bathroom floor
Bottle in hand and nothing more.
