the white noise…

 ..in his heart, the sum of all his colors

       —the metronome to which he beat

                                                 [was she].

A 50-Word Story a Day Keeps the Boredom Away

Guest Post Special #4 Coco J. Ginger.

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful

…hate me because i’m a domestic GODDESS and beautiful:-)

Light (my poem of happy)

Can I not breathe without you? Can I not dream without you?

I feel weightless- I’m dressed in silk
The suffocating wool has disappeared
I’m wearing yellow with lace and frills
My smile is white; my tongue dances behind each word
I leap from hour to hour
I dance without a stage
There is no audience
no judge
no costume or masks to be seen
I sing aloud
There is no danger of a flat note or a harmed ear
All the risks have been taken
Allowing me room to fly

Can I not breathe without you? Can I not dream without you?

I finally live
I am fully alive
Each finger composing an inexperienced song
A new life
I sing so readily, so decidedly

Is it true?
Is it fair to feel so warm?
Is this sunlight really all my own
May I bask beneath this joy?
Can I run without a guide?

Each bar that held me in place
Each brick that kept me cold
Has left
I seem to be alone
Alone in the glory of this new light
This new place
It is mine
It is all mine

I fear he needs me
I fear he needs my hand for strength
But my feet are swift
My limbs resist
The fatal temptation to re-track
To my prison
To my past

Eyes are bright
Salt tears have formed a castle
Which is a learned satisfaction
I see an orange up in a tree
I want it
So I take it
I taste it
It brings me pure delight
Small satisfaction
Little interactions of what now
does matter

Can I not breathe without you? Can I not dream without you?

I linger in this rain
I feel so overwhelmed with
Each splash
The puddles are forming fast
This moment soon will pass
I must make the most of each drop
Exploding on the slipping street
There are no words for this joy
A fresh tear fills my eye

Who am I
To deserve this second chance at life?

All my fears are not overcome
But my life has just begun

Can I not breathe without you? Can I not dream without you?

No-
So
I walk past you and find
Life after death
A fresh breath
A new scent
An awakened smile
I realize
I never knew how to live
I could never dance like this before
And everything I held so dear
Has slowly faded away

Can I not breathe without you? Can I not dream without you?

I raise my eyes towards the sky
My hands are open wide
My heart begins to pursuit
The depths of all this passion
I can barely regain my stature
I am left startled and changed
Things will never be the same
And as my height transforms
I say

Thank you
You gave me courage to breathe without
You taught me how to dream without
And without
I am offered what I once did doubt

And finally
I am ready to be

vendetta

i wish i didn’t think i was so brilliant. I would write more,  I would edit. i would spend time creating magnificent raw sentence, insteady i fly by half-heartedly, without willingness to purge the piece that must be edit. What a terrible vendetta, like a gluten-free girl who loves bruschetta.

just because she’s breakable…

..does not mean she’s broken  (that fighting little fool, that queenly lass of rebel rules, that darling goddess of wicked words, that loyal lover of Fairy Tale worlds).

Her beauty rests, her mind it rests, her heart surrenders; her body smiles while she slumbers (that gifted girl, that priceless devil, that fearless fiend).

Goodnight, goodnight, she falls down under  (she’s hanging free, at liberty).

Smile :)

If you were green tea, I’d be your tea cup
If you were dark chocolate, I’d be the paper that wraps you up

If you were a train, I’d be your tracks
If you were a brain, I’d be the heart attached

(Smile. Your eyes sparkle when you do.)

happily

[Happily broken] arms unlocked. Eyes wide open.

Eager. Torn apart. Heart explosive.

Fingers composing [Happily broken].

Come in, come in. I am ready. I am open.

happy to be open [Happily broken].

“All forms of madness…

…bizarre habits, awkwardness in society, general clumsiness, are justified in the person who creates good art.”

― Roman Payne,  Rooftop Soliloquy 

time zones

i liked how our suns came and went at mismatching times. i liked that while i was drinking morning coffee, he was sleeping effortlessly, dreaming soundly. I liked that our brains weren’t operating within the same ticks, our hearts weren’t breaking at the same settings of the sun, our eyes weren’t open in the same sentences.

I liked the distance, the thousands of miles, the time zone apart, the knowledge our lives were ticking at different intervals— it favored me, to know, he wouldn’t think of me, while i accidentally thought of him. God forbid we collide in that space of time where two experience the others presence…while their minds create the same thoughts at the same instant….. and they recognize they are not alone.

If that happened—that would be terrible. I could not handle his brains collide against my most prized organ, i did not want to be near his presence, or have him know i existed in any space where he was alive. I wanted to evaporate from his brain, i wanted to be exterminated from his heart. I wanted the time zone always. The thousands of miles forever. I always wanted to be awake while he was dreaming.

(heart-stabbing words—marching along, stepping right through the strongest barriers of my heart)

I did not hate him, I did not wish him pain or sadness, i simply wanted to be ignorant of his careless resemblance, to know that the honest significance of my name would never fall off his calloused lips…..pronounced on his sneering tongue.

But….if one of us had to possess our story, I would volunteer my capricious heart. I would hide each saluting souvenir within my most brilliant organ—IF that would suck my identity from his bloods cells, cut out my presence in his heart. I would take the responsibility, I would embrace the collapse of our tricksy desire.

To see him once more, have him look towards me with his embarrassed smiles, try to flirt…with pretend use of foreign languages that i unfortunately knew better than he….to have knowledge that he knew not who I was [anymore]. I would smile gaily back, and be happy, walking away with gratification, knowing our story had finally ended—happily.