[x]

Moving On"It all seems to be in order. Let me just read your last file."

"Thank you."

"It says here you used to have a girlfriend who was raped whilst you were with her?"

"Er…yes."

"Did she love you?"

"Yes. More than I could handle, I suppose."

"According to your file you told her she wasn't the one, and that her overfamiliarity with men led her to be in this situation?"

"Er…yes? But it's not like I told her she deserved to be raped, it was more-"

"Just yes or no answers would do. Did you do anything prior to this incident to make this girl feel loved?"

"Yes… I didn't cheat. I think that's enough for any relationship."

"It als

Beauty and the BeastLong ago lived a callous prince
who cared for no one but himself.
One day an old woman asked for shelter,
and the prince slammed the door in her face.

Suddenly the woman revealed
that she was really a beautiful witch.
She put a curse on the prince
they he his outside would reflect his inside.

Until you find someone to love
and to be loved in return
you will remain a beast
for the rest of your days.

I was seventeen when my father
set out to find his fortune.

When he returned
He told me of his travels.

He said that he made a grave mistake
and that I would have to go and live with a beast

I complied,
Because it was for my pap

Forest FireWe're proper lovers with miles in-between
Like the devil floating down the river valley
That baptizes in its water
I am not where I would like to be

Like a pagan dance, you tend to inspire
The flirt in your lips, the kiss in your smile
You've got the earth eyes and I've got the sky
This passion: a forest, the anxiety: a fire

the look to letting you goi hope i ruined
your day
like a smudge
of ink-

i like reminding you
of the things
i am sure you proudly
keep hidden,
beneath shrouds
of black,
like clouds
and that
ache my heart,
so loud
when i try
to sleep.

i have
bookmarked my skin
where you last
touched me
so that i may
open the pages
and read us
again
when i feel a little
less sick.

all i want is to look across
a span of space-
a floor, a bed,
the breath between
a face-
and see another
holding me like light
within warm eyes.

it is likely
we will not make it
through the night;
in this case,
i hope that,
with my last,
fast breath,
i learn to love

Riding BikesGoing off medication is like riding a bike.

The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.

"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.

I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration

i was kissed by color before i was borni have a thing for butterflies -
           they were tattooed across my skin
           when i left my mother's womb.

they rest between my ribs
and the hollow of my throat
i was kissed with colors before i was born.

you were kissed by  h a p p i n e s s
and embraced by Eden -
so you could find refuge
in the color under my skin.

instead of a heart,
my blood beats with butterfly wings.
and they glow when i smile
or when my cheeks forget to blush.
in the place of the heart the butterflies took away.

so your smil

i'm tired so let me be brokenshe's crying in the corner again
headphones blasting angry lyrics
to drown out everyone else around her
memories are flooding back
things hardly anyone understands

depression is such a monster
it clings to her like a leech
she's scared she'll never be rid of it
but she keeps up the fake smiles and laughter
because the facade is so much easier

she's watched so many she loves
be dropped into the ground
like the petals you pull off daisies
asking if he/she loves you or not
(how often has that answer been not?)

verbal scars still cling to her ears
and remain fresh in her mind
'go kill yourself!' 'you're worthless!'
taunting her

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

i have the right not to give excuses or reasonsi am not going to
explain myself
away.

i am no ocean tide,
ebbing and flowing
over the sands of us,
and your approval-
your pleasure
of what i am
is not needed.

you do not
need to know
why i am hurt,
why we do not speak,
or why i still love you.
you do not
need to understand
(the way the moon
does its stars)
why i feel and ache
and show this on
my skin and bone.

the fear,
however,
of keeping you away,
of creating distance
more than the miles
between home
and georgia,
relinquishes
the power i hold
between my teeth
and i burrow
like scarab beetles in the sand
into why,
why,
why.

i cannot wait
to breathe
an

basically i'm like vomitwhat happens when you finally find love
(or it finds you)
but it picks up its pieces
(and yours too)
and moves to georgia?

look-
you are not the only one.

people leave their hearts
behind
everywhere.
like
if you take a walk
down the street-
the pavement you're walking on,
take a look at it.
like
really look at it.

i hope you see
vague outlines in the cement,
heart shaped, yes,
with initials stamped
like sad hooves
in their middles
because basically,
that's what love feels like.

and still,
you are not the only one.

you do not deserve
the attention
to be fixed.
you are to remain
a broken doll
at best
on the she

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numbit is two o' clock in the morning and i can't sleep. or i sleep too much. one of the two, and the pills make three. they stew and burn the back of my throat; the chemicals dissolve and form words.

the medical literature didn't say anything about that. or the numbness in my arms and legs. the tingling has crept up my right leg for the past week, weaving itself between my toes and nipping at the back of my knee. maybe it's a side effect, or maybe it's diabetes. or a blood clot. maybe my foot will need to be amputated, and i will have to hobble down the aisle for our wedding.

he coughs beside me, still fast asleep, and i touch one of his eyebr

no one warned the little girlssometimes you will fall in love with
the hands or with the jawline, not with
the penis. watch out for boys whose eyes
are rougher than their voices. little girls
love hard and fast, and it is a lie to say
that words will never hurt you.

kissing in the rain is not romantic. it's cold
and wet, and your nipples will be like pebbles
digging into his skin. he'll wipe water from your
lashes, and, if he is polite, he'll pretend
not to notice his thumb blackened by mascara.
later as he sleeps you will watch his lips,
unable to feel anything except your hair
curled damply against your skin.

when you were young, sex was strange
an

Riding BikesGoing off medication is like riding a bike.

The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.

"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.

I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration

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Submitted: February 20, 2012
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condensationby ~estallidos

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Visual & Found Poetry

©2012-2013 ~estallidos

leave the lights on.

-

(sorry for all of the instagram poetry. this is the first one i wrote and will likely be the last one i post to deviantart for a good long while, because i am capable of other things.)

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*bohemianpoets Jan 16, 2013 Student Traditional Artist

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Mood: Love

~CoffeeStainedMemory May 6, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

This is lovely. I've been reading through all your writing, and you have such a wonderful way with words that I can't help but envy. Thank you for sharing your gift.

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~estallidos May 6, 2012 Professional Writer

thank you for taking the time to read so many of my piece, leaving favorites in your wake!

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~CoffeeStainedMemory May 6, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

You're very welcome.

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~AVolatileCalm Apr 8, 2012

this is breath taking.

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~estallidos Apr 8, 2012 Professional Writer

thank you so much for the comments and the favorites. i appreciate you taking the time to read my work <3

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~AVolatileCalm Apr 8, 2012

it's honestly a pleasure

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~Wishingrain Apr 1, 2012

This is such a... beautiful piece :heart

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~Wishingrain Apr 1, 2012

oh damn i failed that

... sorry

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~liebelivvy Mar 13, 2012

I do the opposite. Dont look in the mirror and especially don't wipe away illusions. Haven't done anything I would be proud to be remembered for...

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