[x]

4 in the AMWhat I'm thinking about
is the couch cushion between us.
That enormous island of doubt-inducing,
fear-mongering plushy goodness.
The way you sat on one end unknowingly,
unwittingly breaking my heart.

What I'm thinking about
is a future that may or may not be.
One where you're not mine,
and I can't call myself yours.
A future?
A nightmare.

What I'm thinking about
is your sweet face,
my heart strings play desire,
a parting, goodnight embrace,
a drive in cold attire.

What I'm thinking about is
The way your body molds to mine,
when we sail on rhythmic notes,
kisses, shivers on open throats,
in sailboats cut from pine.

What I

Tomorrow, I hope you're there

If this world could lose one person,
I would hope it wasn’t you
because the day that you go missing,
this world will be missing two.

life without youi watched you,
bone-handled
battered and floral
suitcase in hand,
as your knotted tree-branch fingers
grip the doorhandle.

i watched you
disappear
before the door swung
shut.
i saw your thin skin
slip between pavement
and cracks in the concrete
city walls.
your keys sunk through
the hole in your pocket
and are sitting at the
side of the sink,
your lunch in the bowels
of the toilet.

i watched your mouth
of broken teeth
spit vitriol soundlessly,
your tendons splitting
from your frame,
you have unravelled into nothing,
i watched you
pack your things and
i smiled.

waiting.he has been there for so long that the girl sometimes wonders if he is part of the beach, if the seaweed and shells fuse themselves to his ankles at night and grow over his browned legs like ivy. he is always still, so still, eyes focused on something distant in the waves that the girl can't quite see, though she tries. the man has a face like a creased paper bag and she finds herself wishing that she could see inside his head.

she watches him all day from the corner of her eye but no one ever joins him in his vigil. he is alone in casting shadows that grow longer and longer as the sun sets. the girl wonders what it is like to be so alone an

encephalitis.she asks, "is it weird to have one day where you really intensely, for no good reason, think of a dead person?"

-

the intercom was the one to announce that his body had finally given up. i don't remember what i was wearing that day, or how my hair looked, or what noises fell out of my mouth. death has dulled the sharp edges within me. this is what i do know: some people burst into tears and some people sat frozen and pale and some people simply got up and left the room.

"are you okay?" someone asked me, and i found that i was lying on the floor, though i couldn't understand how i'd gotten there. the overhead lights were buzzing and humming

MirageYou know how you broke me,
but maybe you don't want to know,
or maybe you just don't care,
but I do.

You've been a mirage to me
for these last two years.

A veritable paradise,
always in sight but
perpetually out of reach.

And I know what I've done seems stupid but
when you are dying in the desert
you walk toward anything that looks like water
even though as you get closer and closer
you start to realize that it's probably nothing
you keep fucking walking because
you need it to be something.

And now that I'm finally close enough,
I'm forced to realize you aren't really there.

That you've never really been there.

Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.

With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?

Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.

When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?

The street outsi

neverlandi'm giving myself ten minutes to grow up,
and with every minute that passes i am remembering
balloons and party hats and streamers
and the second star to the right,
straight on 'til morning.

every year i write myself a poem for my birthday,
but this year i think i'll write a poem about
peter pan and he'll die in the end and everyone
will be sad. i'll be the saddest though,
because there comes a point in your life
when you realize that you're not peter pan,
or wendy, or even a lost boy.

(how sad, i think, to be lost but not a lost boy.
it doesn't matter though, because neverland isn't
real and now look, i'm another year

Fourth of September.1.

I am writing a poem about my birthday and candles and alcohol and dead people.
And how I have a really good imagination and every time I walk by that stop sign I see the car slamming into her and spreading her across the asphalt and every time the lights flicker I imagine his brain swelling against the confines of his skull and every time I walk in the front door I am reminded that my baby brother is dead.

And balloons.
I am writing a poem about balloons and dead people.

2.

It is the fourth of September and I am full of longing. I want bare knees and raw elbows, untied shoes, green grass that bites into the tender palms of my hands.

four months timeFour months and I have died and been rebuilt
Slain by hands that I loved,
Hands that once held mine so flawlessly.
The time passed slowly at first and I thought surely this was the end
But soon the progression of time sped up
And now it all seems a blur
I long for a touch, a silent whisper, any sign of human affection
Yet I receive none,
Not because others are not willing to fulfill this task
Rather, I cannot yet bring myself to allow them that sacred honor,
A vast void now lays agape in my soul, the space where you once thrived
Four months and what have I to show for it?
Cynicism and strength?
Are these life's lesson from thi

from the painFrom the pain we grow
Like flowers and rain
Though it may be slow
From the pain we shall grow
This temporary hurt
Leaves me wishing to be beneath the dirt
Heave the heart aside and forget the pain
Move forward as we can only do, it's the only way we remain sane
Your lips once so sweet, now just a distant memory
Four sips and how we use to be is forgotten
The pain now eased as the room begins to spin
My heart lay slain, but life will onward go
From the pain we learn to grow

Lover's painThe one who can make you feel so high
Often is he who will make you cry
Ups and downs
Smiles into frowns
Lovers allowed too much control
And now you feel the hole
Run away and never forget
The pain that left you with regret

Yet You WonderYou wonder why you're so disliked.
Let me shed some light on this absurd inquiry.
You, dear sir, need only look under your shoes,
Where remnants of hearts may still be seen.

The front of your shirt is soaked through,
With the tears you have made us shed.
You feel no remorse for what you have done.
You simply became bored with those who adored you.

As monstrous as you are, some are willing to forgive.
You don't deserve it.
You deserve nothing, you who ARE nothing.
The dirt upon your shoes is worth far more than you.

WallsThe walls have ears.
They heard your false prophecy,
Of love for eternity.
They heard the unkept promises,
And knew of the lies.

They heard inaudible sounds,
Of heartbreak within my chest.
Yes they heard.

They heard as I cried your name,
And reached for you, desperate.
They heard you slip through my fingers,
And you did not regret.

The walls have ears.
They heard everything.
If only they could have warned me,
Before I fell in love.

It Cannot BeHow clear the air becomes,
How sharp the colors,
When we put one,
Above all others.
Or so they say, I wouldn't know
My heart is in an overdose,
Being pulled one direction, then another,
Feigning love for several others.
I wish I could know who I need,
I wish this pain would just recede,
But what's the point of wishing
When all that comes of it is longing
For something that cannot be.

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More from ~estallidos

glittering, struggling.i.

"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.

"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey
bottle and say that making people
happy is my new job.

"you should get a paying job,"
you clarify, and i fill the whiskey
bottle with glitter and kiss you
until it doesn't matter anymore.

you don't need money if you're
dead.

iii.

i tell you that i'm going to leave
because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refuse to speak to me for
the rest of the night.

and here i thought i had
all of the answers.

v.

you joke about going to med scho

kitestrings.you confessed that when you were little you would pull apart monarch butterflies because they were much too beautiful--
so beautiful that they made you feel uneasy.

(you always did call me the most beautiful thing you'd ever known.)

it's almost december now, and the only reason i wish you were here is so you could make snow angels and i could rip off their wings.

---

you wanted a kite for your birthday, so i got you one that was shaped like a bat and we took it to the beach, watched it crash into the surf over and over until it was bent and broken. i rescued it from the tide and surfaced dripping saltwater -- you told me i looked like t

compulsive liar.once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.

-

sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.

i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.

"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.

"why not?" i reply.

-

i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon

cardinals and brown hair.aaron, i want to tell you about the
red-haired boy i saw standing in the rain.

while the other students ran to class, he
paused and stared into the trees and i
paused and stared at him and we might
have smiled.

i want to tell you about the cardinal that
we were pausing for, and how the red of
its wingtip matched the colour of my scarf--

but i know if i pick up the phone and tell you
about my cardinal and my red-haired boy and
my rain, you will sigh and reminisce and tell
me that "isn't that nice," and "yes, it's raining
here too," and, "i always was attracted to
redheads."

and you always were attracted to blondes.
and blue eye

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12-21-12

by ~estallidos, Dec 21, 2012, 8:32:18 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

The Mayans said it first, but
tea leaves said it second, her palm
said it third, and the boy
down the road, the one with the blue,
blue eyes, said it fourth.

The world was going to end and she
could not be happier.

Her affairs were easy to arrange:
money sealed into envelopes,
the microwave unplugged, and one
last kiss for the blue-eyed boy.

She called her mother,
and her mother did not answer.
(But she did not expect her to.)

That evening she hid beneath
a blanket with her dog and told stories
about the good times and the bad times
(but mostly the bad times, and how
now there would never have to be
bad times ever again).

Then she went to bed, heart lighter
than light, winged with hope,

and woke up crying.

12-21-12by ~estallidos

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

i don't think everyone was relieved today.

love 8 8

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~enchantressofnight Mar 22, 2013

I especially love the first stanza.

~Linney69 Mar 5, 2013

wow. this is beautifully written, especially for my current emotions. i can relate to it every other day, but not that night, because the 22nd is our anniversary and i wouldn't want to never wake to that day. but things are beautiful when you know it will all end one day.

~kuki19090 Feb 24, 2013

I love this

It's exactly how I felt that day! Even cuddled with my dog under the blanket.

~frazzled-mage Feb 11, 2013

I know some that devoutly wished for a release from here. I must say as life has turn up golden for me since Cathy that I don't want it to ever end....still trying to figure out how not to sleep to maximize the time

...

~ilyilaice Jan 1, 2013

pretty <3

~FacelessLips Dec 28, 2012 Student Photographer

I know the feeling completely love <3 beautiful as always

~XShiningxStarrX Dec 27, 2012 Student Traditional Artist

Oh my gosh, I absolutely love this. My heart kind of dropped at the end, but it's so well written, and I've been sitting here reading it a few times!
Very nice job! ^^