[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windows
open, with morning curling
around you like a drop of blue
ink in a glass of water,
turquoise and unwritten;

remembering when early dawn
was a secret you kept
in a soft, aortic pocket—

your dead lighter spinning
to the floor of Lake Ontario,
a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Anatomic and foreign inside of youAt times, I thought that roadmap
in your chest was the reason why I gathered
dust at night.

But one day,
on the coldest afternoon,
I dwelled in your body
through your eyelids

and travelled through these streets
long enough to know that your unexplained hunger
wasn't going to cease-
I was barefoot in the days
where the sun scorched its rage
on every drop of sweat hiding in my nape
that they gave up and ran away,

like little gypsies looking for an oasis
to build their tents in,
standing on bare sand dunes-
relieved that the prejudice of their pagan artistry
was replaced with acres
and acres of dry, barren landscape.

This was how I striv

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Puzzle PiecesYour mother got annoyed with us, so she sent us to the playroom with a puzzle. I dumped all the glossy pieces out while you watched intently.
How are you going to put this together? You asked. The pieces are all circles!

I was perplexed. The pieces were clearly not circles, so I began to put the pieces together.
I don't understand! You exclaimed. How can we do this?

I figured you were just being silly like always. I ignored your moans and put together all the outside pieces.

You huffed and puffed the way disgruntled children do and crossed your arms across your chest as you plopped down on the floor.

I pushed the last piece into pla

There Was a Flower in the RoomThere was a flower in the room,
Never mind what sort.
Each day, a petal would fall off the flower.
I didn't notice at first,
One day, there were 5 petals left
(I was still oblivious to the flower at this point)
There was a note on the desk
Five Days.
And there was nothing I could do,
Except to watch the petals fall.

TemptationsI saw a demon crawl across the floor,
It whispered secrets to me
Beckoning for me to return
I closed my eyes,
But it never left.

I see a devil dart between the shadows
He offers me a gift,
Tells me I can't decline
I close my eyes,
But it never goes away

I will see a skeleton lie upon the bed
It will show me what is to come
Letting me know I can't escape
I will close my eyes,
But it will never go away.

Across the TableI sat on the other side of the table. You were physically present, but you weren't there; your eyes were empty and your voice was flat. We were sitting in the McDonald's by the park; we didn't order anything, we never did. It was a mid-January day, the joy from Christmas had worn off and now it was just cold.

Do you remember when we came here for my birthday?" I asked. "We brought a cake and everything and didn't buy a thing from the menu, they didn't even care.

You had a ghost of a smile on your face as you managed to say one word;

Yeah…

I looked outside to the pitch-black night and suggested that we go home. We stepped outside and

Goodbyei. He looked at me over the tops of his glasses
It was the first time I had truly seen his eyes
And the last

ii. I looked at the coffee stain on his shirt
I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes
But I know he saw them fall to my feet

iii. I stuffed my hands back in my pockets
I was afraid to look back as I walked out the door
He the one going,
But I felt that I was leaving him

Winter NightHe breathed into his hands in a sad attempt to warm them. It was an early December day, but it was close enough to Christmas to feel misplaced among all the happy shoppers. He left the apartment earlier in an angry storm after another argument with his girlfriend.

He lit a cigarette and kept walking. He made a mental note to put his gloves in his coat pockets, the next time this happened it was bound to be even colder.

He walked by the displays in the Macy's windows, pausing to look at the figures set up in their own happy world, oblivious to everyone looking at them. The happy plastic couple walking by the small, plastic shops downtown cau

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Moonburnt

by ~xthe-eleanorx, Aug 30, 2012, 8:57:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Carelessly,
she sleeps with the window opened
and the nighttime's sun,
that isn't quite a star,
paints her face and neck
with a strange,
silver glow,
and deposits a burning desire
to absorb it all.

Moonburntby ~xthe-eleanorx

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I had a strange thought while trying to sleep last night.

Key word here: trying.

*Concora Sep 7, 2012 Writer

A beautiful thought, rather. I really do like the concept of being 'moonburnt', and this piece does it perfect justice.

~xthe-eleanorx Sep 8, 2012 Student Writer

Thanks so much!

~DMFITTWSFABTWWONEE Aug 31, 2012 Student Writer

I like this but I'm not sure really what this means. The key word is always trying though. Also don't take an amateur's critque too seriously.

~xthe-eleanorx Aug 31, 2012 Student Writer

It's basically about how nighttime has this cool romantic allure driven by the moon.

~Shyanne-Kai Aug 31, 2012

I like the similarities to the sun, but thinking about the moon instead makes it so much more sweeter and beautiful.

~xthe-eleanorx Aug 31, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you!

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Moonburnt

Moonburntby ~xthe-eleanorx

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