February 2012
2 posts
This, this, this is about Trust. This is about the wall, my wall 20 by 10, every brick set in concrete. Through this wall you can look at me, but you can’t see me. Through this wall you can listen but not hear me. This, this, this, is about you fighting through, climbing the wall, breaking off each brick and finally when you got through, you walked towards me, took my hand and said, “You’re...
January 2012
17 posts
“He pointed at, Sometimes one simply wants to disappear. I pointed at, There’s...”
– Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (via loveyourchaos)
There’s always that moment that makes a person second guess everything they have ever believed in. It shakes your faith; not only for your future but for everything your past consists of. So my question is this: Why is it that all meaningful relationships end up as parked cars in metered spots?
écritoire: I am made of scales, and for each... →
moderateclimates:
I am made of scales, and for each person who meets me, another one flakes off. I wonder how long it will take until I have a new skin, all fresh and new and living, but for now, everything that is dead about me disappears. I flutter to the ground, to mingle with the dirt and I wonder if anyone…
Chicken Salad
Eavesdropping on a phone call that determines her own fate, the words she heard let her draw only one conclusion, the worst one possible. She was the worst-case scenario. She was it. They came up the stairs to tell her but she didn’t need telling, she already knew. They said, “it’s not that bad.” She said, “Leave.” She refused comfort; she demanded to be alone… so they left. She let herself...
“Love is like war: easy to begin, hard to end - Proverb”
Him: Who are you?
Her: I'm a writer.
Him: No, I did not ask what you do. I asked who you are.
Her: Oh. I don't know.
Him: Neither do I.
I was eighteen the first time I ate dinner alone; at a table set for two. I had specifically requested the last table by the windows so I had the opportunity to people watch. Perhaps if I was looking elsewhere I would hopefully be oblivious to the pitiful stares and questioning glances. Even without looking at their faces, I could hear their thoughts. On a Friday night? Eating Alone? How sad. And...
“I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind, I can never leave the past...”
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that...”
The Poem that Inspired the Title
If my heart was a balloon then you spent one year blowing love into it until one day you decided that you had no more love to give and the love that you were giving wasn’t love at all but instead your own falsified version. That day you took a pin to my balloon heart and popped it. And instead of spurts of love pouring out of my popped heart balloon confusion, pain, and miscommunication erupted...
The Beginning
A collection of media, including original poems, in hopes of inspiring, healing and relating to those in search for something they cannot find themselves.