word scramble

He was a going-nowhere, good for nothing heart breaker with a talent for falling hard and crashing harder and

she was a genius, overflowing with perfection and beauty and brains, but sometimes she felt like the whole world was against her and

wait. that’s not right.

He was overflowing with heartbreak and it was getting him nowhere and he hated the whole world, but he still had beauty and brains and

she was a genius, perfect in every way except that she was falling hard and she knew she was going to crash and

no.  still wrong.

He was a genius, and people said he was going nowhere but he saw his future in her every time he looked in her perfect eyes. He fell hard for her, but he always knew she’d never let him crash, just like she knew he’d never break her heart, and he loved her because she let him feel from his soul instead of his brain and

she loved him because he found her beauty and brought it out for the whole world to see.

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ink stained words

read me a story.

read me fantasy from twisted lips
words running faster and faster until
they blend into each other like watercolors.

read me fright like you mean it
like every word you say might be your last and
your heart won’t stop pound-pound-pounding.

read me a lie, or read me the truth,
or read me a something-in-between, because
who says everything has to be either/or?

read me life with words like a river
beautiful and deadly and always moving and
able to take your breath away oh so easily.

read me enchantment like you understand it
like you believe it and know it and realize
your life isn’t over.

read to me until i’m stained with your stories
until your voice is tired and my eyes are sleepy and even then please
don’t stop.

tick tock

They told him he was handsome, beautiful even, but he could never bring himself to look in the mirror. He had tired eyes and tired shoulders and tired feet, and he tried

God, he tried

to reverse himself, to fix himself, to become anything he wasn’t. But time went on and the shadows under his eyes grew almost as dark as the bruises on his arms.

When he broke, it was messy, and loud, and undeniable (but people denied it anyway, because how could he be broken?). Every time he took a breath it felt wrong, it felt like hell, and he wanted to scream but he couldn’t find his voice. So time went on, and he kept breathing (but not by choice).

Sometimes sanity would wash over him like a wave, and he’d try again to fix himself. Like Peter Pan with his shadow, he’d try to sew himself whole again,

but things never work out like they do in the movies.

He tried to get over his fear of mirrors. He’d stare at his grimy reflection and recite mantras he’d read about in his positive thinking books – I matter, I am beautiful, I am special,

I am

I am

I am.

Should I feel better now? he’d spit at the mirror. Am I all better?

Am I

Am I

Am I?

So time went on and he got too tall and too skinny and maybe he was still handsome under all that pain, but his fear of mirrors stayed just as strong as ever.

Once the bruises covered so much of his body that you couldn’t see his skin, he started to pray; because what did he have to lose? He prayed to every god and goddess and antichrist and deity he could think of – Aphrodite, Zeus, Athena

help me.

Gaia, Artemis, Nyx

help me.

Styx, Selene, Prometheus

Hades, Satan, Chaos

Yahweh,

Thor,

Jesus fucking Christ, somebody help me.

inventing the sunrise

i. he was a child of the sun – brown skin and sundrenched hair and passion filling him up until he couldn’t contain it, and it burst out through his laughter.

ii. she was made of moonlight and mystery, stars glimmering in her eyes and shadows fluttering on her skin.

iii. he always carried a tropical flower, bright yellow, because he thought it was like carrying the sun. she always carried a small jar of stars, sparkling brightly, because she thought they were the most beautiful things in the world. and when they met, it was perfect.

no one ever saw him cry but her. no one ever saw her laugh but him.

i. he couldn’t get used to her world, with its dark shadows and mysterious faces. she couldn’t get used to his world, with its loud laughter and blinding sun. they tried for a while, tried to be together, tried to survive. but surviving wasn’t enough.

ii. she cried when she realized they couldn’t stay together. taking his hand, she slipped her jar of stars into it. because you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, she said. he cried then, too. he tried to give her his flower, but she shook her head. she told him to put it in the jar, so they would be together always; so he did. then both of them watched in wonder as pinks and reds and purples began swirling around the jar. i like that, she whispered. me too, he replied.

iii. he is a child of the sun; she is made of moonlight and mystery. they spend their days and nights apart, staying where they belong. but twice every day, when the golden rays of the sun trickle into the night sky, they come together. and they sit, under the pink and red and purple clouds, watching the moon and sun drift across the sky.

and they live.