GraceIt's in our bones:Grace
Lost in the dark, we search for the light.
The cold, damp walls leave lesions on my skin, and the only light I see is that
burning in your eyes.
Your breath is wet in my ear.
"I can smell the grace in you." you snarl.
My hands are cold around your throat.
The Most Expensive GiftThe most expensive gift you ever bought me shot up our arms so fast;The Most Expensive Gift
A straggling line of mismatched veins, ignoring us like you do me.
That laundry list of apologies won't work for me tonight. I'm used to your excuses-
I'm not a fighter anymore, but a follower, addicted to your sassafras eyes and smoke-edged lips, coughing my way closer to dignity.
Make a wish, they say, twenty-three candles lighting up like your next cigarette.
I wish you were here to sing to me. I wish that you'd love me like you say you do.
I wish I could believe it.
(Oh, the laughter in your
Dial TonesI dial your number. (Ring.) No answer-- Thick silence. A sob escapes my throat When I hear your voice on the machine. (Ring.)Dial Tones
LilyThe whole living room smells like a funeral.Lily
I stop in place, my fingers leisurely tearing into the leather of the sofa.
It's her. I know on instinct. She brought it with her.
That creature my father brought home two weeks ago, all flushed cheeks and long legs, gazes out the window with her back turned to me. She's propped her head on her hand, and her long, long fingernails (painted a sickly eggshell white) frame her cheekbone.
I bring my hand to my mouth and nibble on my own stubby fingernail.
"Lily?" I say tentati
Hadas
the planr: we could play cats cradle and watch the sunrise s: and eat clementines by the lake in big sweaters r: and then smoke and paint shapes in ashes on our cheeks s: and eventually run away to quebec and sit amongst the crumbley bricks and speak pretend french r: and look at cirque de soleil in the distance and reminisce about our childhood dreams of dancing on the high wires s: and when spring comes again get ourselves horribly lost in the woods and break our arms re-enacting our old imagery r: and poke at rabbits who've died, sticks through their hearts because when we were beat down, there were toes in ourthe plan
I'm doing NaNo this year!
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a melting pot of truth and fiction
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(sweatervest + scrabble) + (tea + odd hour of the morning) = party time.
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Wowza! How awesomesupremo! That\'s just so ulticooliolicious!
It's not a good day to be you.
*tag*
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Due to Economic Crisis, The Light at the End of the Tunnel has. Been. Turned. (Off.)
I'll have to find out what that means tomorrow. XD
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Due to Economic Crisis, The Light at the End of the Tunnel has. Been. Turned. (Off.)
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Due to Economic Crisis, The Light at the End of the Tunnel has. Been. Turned. (Off.)
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Strength is doing everything you can do without running away.
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