To the wilting lilies on my kitchen counter:
I am reluctant to throw you out.
You bloomed within a day. Well, some of you. I snipped off your blood orange anthers with the kitchen shears, coating my fingertips with pollen before it could dust the slate and stain my clothes. Hand jobs are always easier to clean up.
I forgot to water you once. I'm sorry.
In the mornings I plucked chlorophyll-starved leaves from the countertop and tossed them in the rubbish bin. Your support system fell one by one, even as you still grew and opened up to the world.
Your petals began to turn limp and brown. I cut away the flowers that were no longer beautifu
how to get drunk and not mean it by allinthen, literature
Literature
how to get drunk and not mean it
first:
lie.
say you’re just looking to have fun.
don’t tell her about the last time this happened.
plan on staying away from beds and grabby hands.
plan on forgetting for once.
next:
lay in bed anyway because you trust her.
debate if that’s wise.
contemplate the universe and what dying feels like.
decide it sounds like her laughter.
feel like dying.
then:
let her hold you.
try to decide if you want to remember this tomorrow.
whisper into her mouth that you love her.
let her shakily toss it back.
lie to yourself.
say you’ll forget.
don’t.
lastly:
wake up with her in the other bed.
complain about the headache
hey, wow,you look...
great! you do!
I'm well,
and you?
good, good.
are you happy?
great!
am I?
no, but here, have my
nervous laughter,
see me turn myself
upside down when we run
into each other.
while you are shaking hands
and kissing babies
still smiling for smiling's sake,
I've seen the real you
crying into wine. I've felt you
stain my shirt black-streaked
with hidden away things
creased things, folded
and-tucked-under-heavy
upturned-lip things
and in the process, you
soaked my soul in
everything you.
spooning your vulnerability
was better than
exchanging virginities
in one blind night,
better than the electric jolts
you sent burni
Depression (in Eight Parts) by tinkertype, literature
Literature
Depression (in Eight Parts)
I.
I took a walk once, and
Depression walked alongside me.
"I want to be alone," I told him.
"I know," he replied,
"Why do you think I'm here?"
II.
"I have a plan,"
Depression said to me.
"Not today," I said.
"I'm tired."
He frowned and asked,
"How did you know my plan?"
III.
I gave the weekend over to Depression
but he took three days
instead of two.
"Think of it as an investment," he said.
"And maybe I'll let you have a Friday night
without regrets."
IV.
Fallen to the floor
I look up and see
he's smiling at me.
"You know what they say
about old dogs."
He's doing this on purpose,
I know he is-
and it's working.
"They can't l
tonight i am old again by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
tonight i am old again
tomorrow morning i will be
two again and scared of the shadows.
i will be two again and i will not
look out the window unless you are
holding my hand,
i will be two again and my father will
be the biggest man on earth again
but tonight i am eighteen, i am
eighteen, i am
holding the world in my chest and it is
beating like a heart (well then it must be my heart)
china digs a pattern in my backbone and i
am red red red red
i am a communist daughter and
the trains to shanghai will leave something
to be desired
i am eighteen, i am
all the life in the world
stacked around a schoolruined spine
and the world moves softly and she
touches me gent
there’s this picture of some rooftops in new york
and over the rooftops there’s this rainbow
like a question mark lying on its side like it’s not even sure
that it should be a rainbow, it’s like when you exhale by accident really
softly on birthday candles and the flames ripple a little and everyone
thinks you made your wish even though it was just
a mistake, it’s a rainbow like that, like it happened
by mistake
and the picture reminds me of this one day when i was
looking out the window of ms. azeglio’s office when i was fifteen
as she talked on and on without
saying anything, talked about fixing me i
wat
i didn’t fall in love with you
until your skin was already grey and i
had to tell you what the weather was like
since you couldn’t leave your bed.
i didn’t mind long nights in the hospital
because making you laugh brought a warmth
to my cheeks that burnt hotter than a
forest fire, you never laughed at me for blushing
i snuck you in alcohol and forbidden foods
and pushed you around in that rusted wheel chair,
and all the nurses looked at us with
miserable eyes that said more than the doctors
would ever tell me.
naively i thought it was good news
when you said they were sending you home; but
when i saw you strewn across
welcome to the real world by MisfitableGrae, literature
Literature
welcome to the real world
1. if someone invites you back to their place
for coffee, and you only drink tea,
don’t stress:
you probably won’t actually be drinking coffee.
2. when the creepy guy from work asks you out
again and you think about accepting for the first
time because you’re sick of going home alone and
you have never learned how to say no, don’t. learn.
stand in front of the mirror until you love yourself
enough for your skin to fit snug on your body. read
about the hundreds of millions of planets out in the
hundreds of millions of galaxies and feel so crowded
that you’re about to burst all over again.
3. you’re gonna
He loves me not, he says with blushing cheek.
He'd rather die a fiery death than kiss
A girl with zero sex appeal, a geek
(he says it twice for extra emphasis).
So why the constant stares? I ask. He lies.
He hates the sight of me, he quickly shouts –
Without the scorn his panicked oath implies.
The dissonance contributes to my doubts.
Alone one day, he smiles at me; I gasp.
A joke? A lapse of judgment? Or perhaps
A glimpse of truth at last within my grasp!
I kiss his cheek and watch his walls collapse.
A victory for me, like striking gold.
For him, a death by kisses hot and cold.