An odd sort of Poetry · Short Notes

how we got here

A whole person was built

strung together with voices

of the past, present, and future

torn apart with words

and buttoned up

with quiet smiles

Advertisements
Short Notes · words for the boy who broke my heart

Character

He’s the man in a novel that every girl falls in love with. I know his story, every detail, every day, but I don’t know him. I’ll never touch his skin or breathe his air. I hear his voice and I see him in my dreams, but he’s not here. Every night I close the book, and He disappears. The character I love isn’t real, but still, I can’t help the way I feel.

Short Notes

The Rings of Saturn

The rings of Saturn adorned her head like a halo. They danced with pleasure, every one of them, for they were with her, and nobody could’ve wished for more. But, like the planet, she was always so far away. A gorgeous sight she was, if you were ever lucky enough to find her. And if you do, look closely and pay attention: you’ll see how she shakes and tilts on her axis; it won’t be long until she loses her delicate balance and falls.

An odd sort of Poetry · Narratives · Short Notes

Like Night and Like Day

He once asked me why I was so cynical and jaded. The question was so natural coming from him, being that he, at heart, was a positive force. My answer to him was quite simple:

You grew up in the day with the sun lighting your path.
I grew older in the night among the darkness and the faint light of the moon.
You became who you are because of the things you saw in the daylight.
I became who I am because of the things I couldn’t see in the night.

Narratives · Short Notes

the old man across from me

The familiar brand screams at me silently as I sit here writing, but the sweet smell of cream and the bitter fumes of coffee calm my troubled mind. Across from me sits a man. I can feel his gaze lingering just over my head- my eyes need not assure my mind, but they do regardless. He is aged, the way I hope to never be. On his head he wears a grey cap, a sort of grey cap that takes my soul back to an era I never lived. His tired eyes are magnified by lenses that seem glued to his visage. Our gazes meet, and I smile. Then, in turn, the old man smiles as well. Now, after this brief exchange I will pack up my things and leave. The old man will die and so will I.