You are.
You. are.

I am.

I am.
You are.

...We are?

Alive.

Moonlit Night.

Staring up
At the beautiful moon
And its reflection
On the ocean-water surface
With green story-telling eyes.
Bits of the full moon
Are covered slightly by three
Thin and small clouds --
The only ones
Floating in the night sky.
The highlighted,
Pale-white skin
Seems perfectly flawless
In the bright moonlight.
A warm, gentle,
Summer breeze
Dances with the elegant,
Black silk, party dress.
Not alone,
Two sit together on a log
That's dug securely into the sand.
One arm each around the other,
And hands entwined,
A kiss could be shared.
Love electrifies the surrounding air --
True and pure soulmate love;
Tuned in as intently to the moon
As they are to eachother.

I lie everyday. I tell everyone that I'm fine, okay, good, but I'm not. Sometimes I wish they wouldn't believe me.

Windows to the Soul.

I see a story in your eyes.
It's beautiful.
They're beautiful.
You're beautiful.

Emptiness.

Sleep..
Sleep..
But your eyes won't close.
Body shut down;
Head falling,
Mind closing.
Laying,
Staring at the ceiling,
Emotionless;
Feeling nothing.
There are no shapes on the ceiling
Being created with your imagination.
No thoughts
Run through your head.
Blank. Blink.

Is This Reality?

My imagination is making my daydreams too real. They used to be an escape, a fantasy; now they're becoming a nightmare, something that I don't want, something I want to get away from and shut out. Never before had there been a time in the shower while daydreaming that I wished for it to stop and rushed to get out. The feeling this time was too real. The shaking of my body, starting with my hands.. The breathing, coming too fast.. The runny nose.. The need to sneeze.. The dry throat, begging for a drink.. The one tear that almost fell.. It was like I was crying, but I wasn't. It wasn't real, but it felt like it.

The Mirror.

i.
A mirror..
But it's not just any mirror.
Because you can see through it,
You can see into it.
What you see
Isn't just a reflection
Of yourself.
See what you want
As long as it's truth.
Just ask, name,
And it's there,
Future or present.

ii.
"Death of myself."
Gasping for oxygen;
Can't breathe;
But I only swallow salt water.
Throat burns, throat burns,
Eyes sting.
Arms flail in slow motion,
Searching for a grasp on something.
Sinking down, down, down.
Tranquility washes over,
Calmness surrounds,
Watery dreams begin.

iii.
"Me falling in love."
Bright daylight blinds,
Reflecting off the skin of another.
Blonde curls flow,
And a dress ripples gently in the wind.
In my mind,
Angel wings stick out of her back
And a halo floats above her head.
A sly one she is,
With a smirk on her face.
When eye contact is made,
She runs,
And I run after her,
Chasing a dream.

iv.
"A friend in trouble."
Blood oozes, trickles, drips;
Arms, legs, stomach.
A bottle of pills in a trembling hand.
Eyes glare at the reflection in the mirror
And the bottle tilts up slowly.
[My hands stumble to grab the phone and dial a number.]
The phone rings, a pretty song playing.
"H-Hello?"
"Put the bottle down,
I beg of you.
Clean your body
and cover up.
Don't die,
I love you."
Sobbing begins
And a life is saved.

Paranoid.

Stumbling through a rocky path,
Wandering into the woods.
Something's wrong, something's
Going to happen;
I can sense it.
I don't know where I'm going,
And I don't know when I'll be back.
I'm trying to escape from everything,
But I just can't.
Everywhere I go
I'm being followed
By the hauntings of my life.
I'm struggling to hide
From them,
They keep finding me.
And they've gotten me lost now.

Taste the Rainbow.

I hadn't seen such colors since I was a young child, perhaps around eight years old. 80 years later, I finally got to see the magnificent colors of the rainbow again. All my memories flooded back to me as i viewed the fading rainbow from the hospital window. This would most likely be the last time I would ever get to see something so beautiful. I was happy though, that of all the possible things to see before I was to die, it was a simple rainbow. I imagined myself sitting there, atop the arc of the rainbow, in the near future. Nobody would be able to see me, but I would be able to see everything and everyone, along with all the beauty of the world.

I remember back when I was eight and I would chase the rainbows, trying to reach the end to receive the pot of gold that was supposedly there. I never once arrived at the end of the rainbow though. I juwst ran, running after something that would forever be just out of reach. Soon, though, maybe I will finally be able to take a look at the end of the rainbow and see if that pot of gold really is there.

Rip.

I gazed out the window of the red van in thought. Interrupting my thinking, I felt a finger poke my cheek.

“You had an eyelash on your cheek, see,” she explained to me once she noticed the weird look on my face I had given her. I glanced down to the finger she held towards me with an eyelash gently resting on it. “Blow the eyelash off,” she said.

“Why? “ I asked, confused.

“Because you get to make a wish when you blow an eyelash off your finger, just like what you do with a dandelion,” she spoke about it like I should have already known that, but she had an excited tone to her voice.

It took me a few seconds to think of a wish to make, the right wish. ‘I wish I could fly,’ I thought in my head as I finally rid her finger of my eyelash with a quick blow.


I sat on my bed, leaning my back against the pillow, with my face looking up to the ceiling while I thought about what my friend had told me that day. I wondered if the wish would come true or not; it would be so sensational to fly. It was a large wish on a small thing though, so the chances were low. But what if I had a ton of wishes and made the same wish each time? Then maybe my wish would come true. I would have to wish for more than just to fly though, because I’d have no wings. Fairies had wings, and I had always loved fairies; to be one would be nice.

I slowly raised my hand to my eye and swiped my finger across the tips of my eyelashes. Carefully, I gripped a patch in between my thumb and my pointer finger, and took a breath in. With a sudden strong movement, I ripped out the patch of eyelashes. My other hand was quick to cover my eye from the pain and put some pressure on it to lessen the pain. I turned to face the open window, brought the eyelash clump close to my face, and I closed my eyes. ‘I wish I was a fairy, I wish I was a fairy, I wish I was a fairy…,’ repeated several times in my head. My eyes began to open and I looked up to the sky, searching for the stars. I believed that if my eyelashes reached the stars then my wish would come true. So over and over, I ripped my eyelashes out until there were none left and I was immune to the pain; I was determined to have my wish come true.

My eyes felt naked come the next day at school; my eyelashes had before protected me from the stares of others into my green eyes. I never expected the questions I had received at lunch time though.

“What happened to your eyes? They have no eyelashes,” a younger girl I didn’t know pointed it out.

“I, uh, I ripped them out,” I managed to quietly stutter out.

“Why would you do that? Wouldn’t that hurt?” she pressed on with more questions that I didn’t want to answer.

“No,” was all that I replied.

Thankfully the bell had rung and I quickly escaped back to class, hoping that nobody else would ask. Nobody did. I was relieved to know that there were no more questions, I hated lying.

---

[Grade 5.]

Picture day came, months later, and as my mother curled my hair she finally noticed my lack of eyelashes and asked what happened to them.

“I don’t know. My eyes are itchy and I rub them a lot, so they probably all fell out,” I lied so casually, she believed me. God damn my lies.

I shouldn’t have said that; my mother instantly thought I must have had something wrong with my eyes. Many times I would convince her that I didn’t need to see a doctor, and that I didn’t need eye drops. How long would it take her to just get used to it?

By that time, in grade 5, my wishes had changed completely. I no longer wished to be a fairy; that wish only lasted me 3 days. I had gone through multiple wishes since then. For 5 days I wished to be an angel, imagining what it would be like to protect somebody while wearing a halo above my head and have white, fluffy wings protruding out of my elegant dress. And for 3 months I wished to be pretty, I wished so hard; my wishes had become more realistic with time, but were still a far off fantasy.

---
[2 years later, grade 7.]

My eyes staring at the board never noticed the girl sitting diagonally to me staring intensely, studying my looks. It caught me completely by surprise when she blurted out “why don’t you have any eyelashes?”

“Uh, -” she cut me off before I even had the chance to speak more than an “uhm.”

“Did your eyelash curler rip them out? Mine’s done that to me before when I first starting using it. It hurts, doesn’t it? Once you learn to use it better, you won’t have that problem anymore,” she continued to ramble on, and I just gave a small nod, tuning out her annoying voice.

I no longer wished for anything when I blew away my eyelashes at that age, I only pulled them out as a habit, a bad habit.

---

[Grade 9, quitting the habit.]

I ripped them out when I was angry, frustrated, stressed, upset, or nervous because it felt good. I wanted my long eyelashes back again, I longed to feel them against my pillow when I blinked, and I wished to swipe my finger across them once again. Two months had been the longest I could ever resist the temptation. Each time they grew to a certain length, I gave in and relieved myself from the urge.

---

Grade 11 now and I struggle still to grow them out to their full length. But I’m determined to do it.

Dear Poets,

All your poetry set in rhyme
Has put me into a rhyming time.
In rhyme, I write.
So simple, so light.

I don't have a rhyming mind,
So all of these are quite a find.

Bunny Ears.

Clouds drifting across the sky:
Fluffy white things floating by.
Funny shapes they come in:
Dragons, giraffes, and bowling pins.

Run Through Forests.

Darkness crossed
Over the mountains where I was lost.
Into the woods, I was not safe;
For I was only a waif.
Weak and trembling;
A thin tree, resembling.
Not fit to survive,
I would die, deprived.

Tweet Tweet.

Birds chirp, birds sing;
That’s your cue to start leaving.
Hurry now, daylight comes;
Run before your body numbs.
Creep back in, settle down,
That’s the end of your night out on town.
Close your eyes, get some rest;
Snuggle up in your nest.

Storm Coming.

It’s an hour away from sunrise
As I look out to sea with open eyes.
The boat rocks back and forth,
Roughly sailing in direction North.
Waves crash over the side;
The crew is in for a dangerous ride.
Clouds covering overhead,
That’s not what the forecast read.
Children cry and children scream;
Please tell me this is a dream.

Vanilla, Baby.

Feel your taste buds come alive
With each spoonful that arrives.
Swallow slowly, make it last,
Let it remind you of your past.
The flavor hits you with a splash,
Each memory comes; flash, flash, flash.

We Live in a Horrible World.

Do you ever just sit there and cry because you're really thinking about how horrible the world is? Do you ever feel like just dying because you simply don't want to be a part of this terrible world we live in, as selfish as that may be?

I'm Fine.

Just..
fine.

I'm Blind.

I wish I had perfect vision, so I could see the world how I once saw it before.

Do You Write?

Searching for something to write,
But there's nothing there.
Digging deep,
Like you're trying to reach the lava below the ground,
But you've hit an impossible rock to break through.
You look up and see the sky above you;
Do you write about that?..
Those fluffy white clouds that look like
They could blanket you up in their warmth?
Except they're cold and wet.
Tiny gusts of wind swirl by,
Lifting your hair up as it passes,
And turning grass sideways..
Do you write about that?
Birds chirp as the morning sun rises
And wakes them from their cozy nests in high-up trees..
Do you write about that?
How about the sea, do you write about that;
The waves crashing onto the sandy shore,
Washing away the drawings you made with fingers or sticks?
Do you write about the colorful rainbow stretching across the sky?
Many people taste it,
So it must taste good..
I want to try it.
At night, fireworks make their presence known with a bam
Of colors and shapes and sparkles and sounds..
Do you write about those
When the right occasion for them pops up?
When snow sprinkles down in Winter,
And covers the ground perfectly in white,
Do you write about that?
You can go frolic through untouched beauty
With your partner by your side,
Hoping they won't shatter your heart
And break it into tiny, unfixable pieces..
Do you write about that;
Your love for that one person?
The friends who comfort you
Once your heart breaks,
And feed you buckets of icecream
And bars of chocolate..
Do you write about them?
Do you write about death,
Afraid that it's going to snag you when you least expect it
And torture you for hours with unimaginable pain
Before it finally lets you go?..

If not, what do you write about?

Don't Go. Please.

It's killing me to watch you fall. I never told you that.. But I'm telling you now, if you even read this post that is. I really hope you do. Because you need to know that there is somebody out there who cares about you a great deal, and would miss you like crazy if you were no longer here. I don't care if we've met or not, because we will one day. We already have it planned out, remember? You promised; don't break your promise to me. Please, stay.

Hopefully you know that I'm talking to you in this post.. I don't think it's necessary for me to say your names?