So Many Words

Composed 10/15/13
Description: Some thoughts I had while on my way to class this morning.

So many words I have to give
Locked up in my heart
Waiting to live

None toward whom these lines can be said
They catch in my throat
And rot until dead

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Snatched and Scratched

Composed 10/14/13
Description: This is a piece I wrote a fair bit of several weeks ago and finished up last night. For some reason, when I’m walking back to my place of residence alone, I always have these kinds of morbid thoughts. This piece is also kind of ironic considering my last entry.

You don’t ever think about how you’ll react in that situation. I mean, that’s the point: it’s unexpected.

And you’re sweet, straight A-ed. You go to a Christian, liberal arts college for crying out loud. Making out with your first boyfriend sent you straight into guilt-ridden anxiety for an entire week.

Whew, okay, I guess THAT was an adrenaline rush. But it’s a suppressed rush, that kind of “down boy” adrenaline that our civilized society has taught us. You don’t embrace real, primal adrenaline any more – not like they did back when they were fighting off tigers.

Anyway, that’s all you know, so you think you can only go that far. It’s only in intense situations when you find out where your limits are.

I found out two years ago, October third.

You know, they told us during the apartment meeting to not walk alone. I knew what they were saying was valid, of course; it was nothing I hadn’t heard all my life. I watched the news. I knew people got picked up, abducted, hurt, molested, killed. But, it was also one of those pieces of advice you took with a grain of salt. I mean, always be with a partner when you’re walking back to the apartment? Really? First off, it’s just not practical. You and your friends have different schedules; sometimes you have to walk back alone. And, for real, the building was about a minute and a half from the thick of campus.

So I didn’t really worry. There was nothing TO worry about.

That was my unconscious mindset, anyway, as I strolled back to my apartment building after a late night of hanging out with friends.

My apartment was in a crammed little neighborhood just off campus. On my street in particular, cute, if quaint, little houses on tiny plots of grass were smashed side by side. Occasionally, a slender footpath to the front door or stubby driveway would stick out and spill onto the crumbling pavement of the street; though, most cars parked on said crumbling pavement. And, for some reason, there was only a sidewalk on one side of the street.

So naturally I was strolling along this one sidewalk – a straight shot to my apartment building. And naturally there were several cars parked alongside this sidewalk. All seemed quiet.

Right as I approached an old, black Mustang, the driver’s side door flung out directly in front of me. I stopped, startled, as a man stepped out. He was so close to me I had to step back to let him pass. He was dressed in a light gray graphic T-shirt, which was just barely showing through a beat up leather jacket. That stuck out to me, because he was so tall the best part of him I could see was his chest.

I looked up, but it was hard to distinguish his features under the shade of the trees lining the sidewalk. Then, all at once, I saw his teeth – too white, exposed in the universal grin of bad intentions.

“Hey,” he said, and his voice slithered out of his lips like smoke slips out of a cigarette. “You need a ride?” Continue reading

Flowers

Composed 10/8/13
Description: Another Lit Arts Mag hopeful.

Born into darkness
A husk of coulds and maybes
With no control over our start
We battle and stretch to gain nourishment
And against all odds we twist
Panting, gasping
Into the light

But that’s not the end
We endure storms, famine, change
One day we bloom
The next we die
Trimmed back, pruned
Tamed

But it’s ripping off the dead parts of us
Though painful and not so pretty
That helps us realize who we are
We finally bloom fully

So while I’m proud of your flowers, dear
Do not let that be all I see
Open up, turn back the seasons
Tell me all your stories

A Brief Romantic History

Composed 10/8-9/13
Description: Another Literary Arts Magazine potential. Though, also a subject I’ve been intending to cover for awhile…

The first
He lured me in
Sweetly as a song
But he held me out
At arm’s length
Before I was there long
But I was young and clueless then
So I stayed firm by his side
Hoping that
One day
He would change his brilliant mind
A year or so went by
That was all that I could take
So I looked away and pushed him off
Drifting across the lake

But looking back
I see now
The blessing that heartbreak turned out to be
I lived life
And discovered myself
Only because I was free

The next
He crashed right into me
A derailed train
Unintended
We fell hard with hugs and words
But the illusion of our bond
Soon ended
So with a sigh of relief and sorrow
I pushed him far away
Thinking that I’d seen the last
Of any chance love had to sway

But looking back
I see now
The blessing that heartbreak turned out to be
I stayed true
And re-established myself
Only because I pulled free

The last
Remains a mystery
A construct
Hypothetical
And some days I do think
My beloved will stay
Theoretical
Especially when it seems
All potentials look away
And loneliness seeps
Deep within
As I go throughout my days

But looking forward
I admit
The blessing that heartbreak can frequently be
I continue to grow
And remain myself
As I savor the years of being free

Just Ignore Me, Really

Composed 10/1/13
Description: n/a

What must I do to set myself apart
From those bleached little sweet things
Yearning for your hand
You shame even them
With your elegant rejection
Cool distance and furrowed brow

And me
How often I’m overshadowed
So surely you don’t even notice
It’s just ingrained
My place in your mind
Your heart

Perhaps you’re right
To wait and listen
To your head and not your chest
At least you know which is speaking

My head
The inside
The only part of me worth your complements
And yet
It’s enough

What am I saying?
If it was destiny
I’d be ripping out my heart
But maybe I only stop
Because I know you don’t like to see blood

Instead I wait where it’s safe
Lovers are close but
Friends are closer
If it’s meant to be
You will see
Someday when your need is great
I am here
I will wait

Boots

Composed 10/3/13
Description: I started this poem a few days ago on a VERY rainy day. I loved it. Not only do I just love the rain, but rainy days also give me a great excuse to utilize my favorite fashion accessory. That’s right, you guessed it: boots.  I had a blast with my boots that day.

Ah, I am so glad it’s autumn, so I can justify wearing boots all the time! Because boots are awesome. Here’s why.

There’s something about the beginning
The slipping
The tucking
The lacing
The buckling
I’m armoring up for the day ahead

There’s something about the middle
The clop and strut of heels on pavement
Hunting, climbing over marshes and sand
Cutting through the running waters
Onto the cobblestone
I’m on an adventure

There’s something about the end
Pulling
Slipping
Shaking
Kicking
I’m done

Mission accomplished