Looking Away/Suffocation

This has nothing to do with love,
But it has everything to do with you
and me.
This one moment lasts forever.
I can't breathe!
and the pressure bares down on me.

Mask

You've seen too many tears
roll down my cheeks
to see my face

Untitled Particles

Just two things to pop into my head over the weekend....


Blank lines and empty spaces
The words are in my throat
But I can't scrape them out with my tongue to make the sounds
I realize there's nothing left to say
This is where we'll always stay

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The world revolved around her
She was God's gift
Everyone loved her

If only she could see

Tearing apart the people around
No one's left
She's all alone

She thought that she was the reason
Everyone stayed

She pushed them away

There's no one left
When she finally see's
She'll be all alone

I wish I could draw/paint.

I know that this isn't exactly creative writing, but it just seemed to make sense to be posted here. I can see the picture in my head already. There's a little boy, and the colors around him are really dull almost like in some photographs where it's all black and white except for a little bit of red, or blue or something like that. His hair is a light color, and it's ruffled. He's wearing shorts and a t-shirt. You can see scrapes on his bare legs from summer's play. And this little boy has a tear welling up in one of his eyes. It's almost seems like a close up of the boy, but it's a big canvas, and that's not the whole picture. Everything besides the boy is colored. His arm is outstretched to the side with his fingers hanging lazily in the air. And there it is. A big red balloon. Floating away from his open hand. You can even see the thin white ribbon hanging down with the loop hole just the size for the little boy's wrist. It looks so beautiful in the sky a really bright blue silhouetting the balloon and complimenting it's color. Surrounding that break of sunlight is the dusty sky that reminds me of sand, filled with big billowing clouds full of tangled layers and ripples and tinged with grey. I think the ground would be mostly dirt with patches of grass that is yellowing, because all the color is targeted on that balloon. The boy let go of the balloon, intentionally, and as beautiful as it is, it still hurts him. As much as he loved having the big red balloon tied to his wrist, he felt more as he watched it float through the sky, even though he knew he would never get to enjoy it again after that moment was gone.

Human in a world of Pinnochio's

I stay up late
late in vain
up in misery

I force myself
thinking of you
because you're all I know
I don't want to forget

the hours stroke by
there's nothing to say
nothing left
left to do

clutching the memory
holding tight
breathing in
but never out

out of my head
I feel you
real

memories
fading
fading away

If I never close my eyes
you'll stay real
even if you never really were

(you're the only one who ever was)


**side-note this needs some major work still....but I can't quite figure out how to convey my meaning. Perhaps later down the road I will post a better version that has my message more clearly expressed in it....maybe not

Falling

Unwritten words
Not spoken

Tension.

You'll never know
You'll never see
See me
See me again

I feel broken.
No trust
No love

Betrayal.

I let you in
When all I wanted was out.

Lost
Shut down

Can't find my way back.
You took me away
How do I get back?

Sunday Morning

She needed to calm down. She sat down on the couch, the red cushion slightly softening beneath her. She bent her head down and examined herself from her feet, with her black mary janes firmly pressed against each other, up the side of her blue jeans so dark they almost looked black, to let her eyes rest on her hands. Her fingers were clasped within each other, with her thumbs resting on top. She was on the edge of her seat, back straight up, looking composed, every hair was in place. She thought to herself that it was a good thing her feelings did not show on the outside, because she was felt about ready to fall to pieces. She had to chew a piece of mint gum just to keep herself thoughts concentrated on the intense flavor, and to forget about the sour taste burning in the back of her throat.
She tore her hands apart from each other and struggled in her pocket for her cell phone again. She flipped open the black metal to see the screen glow, only two minutes had passed since the last time she checked the time. She pushed the phone back closed and impulsively used her thumb to work it open and shut again and again, the phone snapping each time. Once she realized what she was doing she shoved her phone back into the front pocket of her jeans and jumped off of the couch.
She walked over to the door, feeling her stomach burn with each step. She couldn't hear anything, but she put her hands against the door on either side of the peep hole and looked through anyway. All she could see was the slightly yellow wall across the way, and another brown door just like hers just off to the right. She turned back around with a sigh of relief.
Her shoes pressed against the blue carpet as she walked back to the couch with a little more confidence. She sunk back into the couch, allowing her back to press against the back of the cushion this time, feeling a little more relaxed this time. She picked her feet up off the floor and crossed her legs over each other, resting her feet on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She let her arms spread out across the soft cushions, closed her eyes, and sighed. Everything was going to be ok, and she didn't know why she was worrying in the first place.
The door across the hall slammed shut and her eyes popped open again. She felt sick again, like this was a big mistake. She slid her feet off the coffee table and back onto the floor again. She grabbed her phone and flicked it open again. Just as suddenly she pushed it back into her pocket and reached for the water bottle on the table instead. She twisted the cap, and it slipped beneath her sweaty palm. She slammed it back down and turned to the kitchen to get a drink. Now she was scared. She walked right past the kitchen and to the back of the hallway, she took a deep breath and walked back out into the living room. She leaned up against the cold wall, closed her eyes, and concentrated on breathing. As she calmed down she slowly opened her eyes.
There were three knocks on the door so soft that she thought she had imagined it, but she jumped at the sound of it all the same. Her heart started to pound through her chest, and she could feel it pulse through her throat. She headed towards the door, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants. She couldn't seem to move fast enough. She thought that she might throw up, and she could feel her bladder nagging at her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob. As her fingertips met with the cold metal she pushed down, and pulled the door into herself.
As quick as a blink she opened her eyes. She let out a slow long breath and smiled from the inside out.

Fly On Your Wall

Just something that popped into my head...it's nowhere near perfect though. It's just an idea.



I want to be a fly on your wall
See who you are
When nobody's watching

I want to know all your secrets
See all your flaws

See the true you
That nobody knows

What do you think
And who do you love

All of your struggles
And how hard you try

The things that keeps you up at night
What makes you smile

Why do you worry
And what makes you scared

Who you are
When you are the only one
To judge who you are

True Beauty

She looked into the mirror aware for the first time that she was not the same girl that she used to be. The changes were gradual, one's that you don't see appear from day to day, but had obviously become something other than who she used to be. She traced her finger tips over her soft skin. She made sure to touch every inch of her face to soak it all in, and finally see the person that she is, and not who she used to be. She slowly raised her forefinger to the tip of her nose, and she caught her eyes staring herself down in the mirror. For the first time she wasn't just looking in the mirror; she was looking at herself, and the person she had become.
It was an odd sensation to see herself staring back like that. It was as if she had never caught a reflection of herself before. How could she be sure that was her looking back at her from the glass? And so she slowly slid the tip of her finger up the bridge of her nose, over her right eyebrow, and then dragged all her fingertips down her eyelids, making sure to take it all in, just incase it wasn't real tomorrow.
She then took both of her hands, cupped her chin, and pushed both of her hands up her cheeks, feeling the hard cheekbones and the warmth of the skin underneath her cold hands. It was almost as if it was someone else, and not her at all. As her hands cupped her face she bent her head down and her tangled hair fell on top of her hands, still wet from her shower. She lifted her head back up and pushed her hair to the side.
She turned her hand over so that the soft skin of the back of her hand skimmed from the dimple in her chin and up to the side of her lips; she made soft circles against her skin and closed her eyes to the softness of her own touch. It was in that moment when she opened her eyes back up again that she realized she was really truly beautiful. She was no longer a little kid with missing teeth and scrapes and cuts, and she was no longer a victim to the insecurity of acne.
Her skin was not flawless, but it was beautiful all the same. She was beautiful. The girl staring back at her in the mirror was no longer a stranger. It was her, and as she kept looking, she could see her eyes soften, and her lips subtly curl into the flicker of a smile.

This is What I Did in Nutrition Today

Her hair looked like it used to be brown before the years of adulthood and parenting passed her by. As the light hit the top of her head the class could see the white that would appear as the years go by. The reflection in her glasses made it hard to make eye contact with the professor.
The subtle lines dropping from the corners of her mouth down to her chin were almost resembling a ventriloquist dummy. Her small mouth rambled words to the students, many of which weren't even bothering to take notes.
The way that she repeated herself and asked simple questions made her more suitable for an elementary class, instead of the room of college students who didn't even look like they would give her the day of time.
She was wearing an avacado green sweater that looked too tight, and too loose all at the same time, making her look rather frumpy, and older than her real age. Her sleeves were pushed up to right below her elbows. She paused from her lecture, that seemed to be more like common sense, for a moment to cough into her balled up fist. Her back curled and her body heaved as a coarse growl came from her throat.
The way that she was standing behind the table, only the top of her corduroy pants were visible to the classroom. They were a paler, even more disgusting green than the sweater hanging over top of them, and they even had a hint of brown in them. She seemed oblivious to the murmur of voices around her of the un-attentive classroom.