I can feel grass growing
All along the insides
Of my skin and my mouth and in-between my toes and
I think that
The inside of my heart must look like
A garden and
I think that
When I hold just still enough
I can feel petals and
Leaves and things
Tickling my lungs and maybe even
My liver
And I just
Wanted to thank you
For taking the time
To plant them all
Intimacy isn't
Your skin on my skin
While you
Breathe into me;
No.
That's all just
Backseats and front seats and
Half an hour before curfew and
Realizing how complicated belt buckles are;
That's all
That is.
While intimacy is
Being barefoot in front of you
Because my toes move like lips and eyebrows
And wrinkle like the bridge of your nose
While intimacy is
Yawning without covering your mouth
Making wishes out loud
Singing somewhere other than the shower
and admitting what song reminds me of
You;
And so
Even though
I've got a hand on your buckles
And my tongue on your throat,
Don't expect to catch me without my socks
Her name was Alice and I was very much in love with her; I always had been, and I always would be. She was beautiful, in her own way, and quiet as the wind's knocking knuckles against a window. She didn't smile as often as I wish she had, and her laugh was like a volcano erupting; loud and unexpected. She read more poetry than she wrote and painted her toenails red but refused to wear open-toed shoes. She never, never, never broke a promise.
"Do you believe in fate?" She asked me, lying on her side and watching me carefully, a blade of grass between her teeth.
"What do you mean?" I answered with a question and she didn't smile, just stared
They Catch One Another by ForeverIsLimited, literature
Literature
They Catch One Another
"Do you think that
Snowflakes are afraid to fall?
I'd be
Terrified
To jump like they do."
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To love me, too
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To fall in love, again
I wonder if she
Knows that
My arms are so wide open
That if I stretch any further
I'd break
"No,
I think
That they catch one another."
And I think
I'll catch you, too
When you're ready to fall
This is a letter.
Dear You,
It isn't a love letter.
A flowery confession would be easy
No, not flowerybut a confession, all the same
It is a recipe, I think
Two tablespoons regret
One ounce bitter
Mostly it's pathetic
You don't know me like you used to
So maybe you can't hear/feel/see
What's going on behind all of these vowels
So, (for mostly Old Time's sake.) I'll tell you
I am
On my knees
On my stomach
My forehead to the floor
I am
Crying into the carpet
Praying into my hands
Pleading and begging too quietly for you to hear
I am
So sorry
I could write four books on the ways I am sorry
Everything
She says that it stars out with
One.
Or two. threefourfive.
(pop, pop, pop.)
And down with a slurp
It's dizzy
and it's maybe a little bit
fuzzy.
but, whatever it is,
sigh,
"Oh, God," she says, "whatever it is,
it's better than what really is."
And so it goes
Pop! Pop!
One, two, four... seven
Things are turning
Most everything is churning
And she's got her head
in her hands
And she's shaking
And she's laughing
And I think she might be crying
And then
And then
She looks up and she says to me,
"One day, no special day, you look down, and you see that you're holding seven different rainbows in the palm of your hand."
"Bu
Creative Writing 01 by ForeverIsLimited, literature
Literature
Creative Writing 01
Cross my heart and hope to die, right?
I pinky promise, I won't tell
Whisper some more, in my ear
Tell me everything you think I want to hear.
I'm the monster underneath your bed;
Hungry for your secrets, fingernails, and toes
Covered in nail polish and perfumes,
Why don't you
Pull the covers up, just a little bit further
Everybody knows, that if you can't see me
Then I can't see you
Let's talk morbid, let's talk God and religion
Let's talk about the better sex and the creepy crawlies beside your bed
Let's talk war!
Let's talk famine!
Now, now, let's not pretend you can't hear me.
Tell me a story.
Tell me you're sorry.
No, n
Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?
Give me your hand
Just like the night before
And the night before that
And probably tomorrow night
And let me whisper
Everything you need to hear
Into your ear;
And let me weave things spun sweet
Over your skin and let it keep you warm
And when we come to the place
Where you wake up crying
Instead of turning to me
And watching me break you down with my bare hands
Why don't you pull me close?
Why don't you pull me close?
And kiss me as sweetly as your childhood
And why don't you try to know
Everything you could mean to me
Let me kiss you back
As sweetly as you deserve.
One.
Light up, light up
Cherries brighter than the sun
Hotter than anything we've ever had
The second one
Just before the sun
Slid in-between the frown of a game machine
Even though we both know those things are rip offs
Two Three
No hello and no goodbye
Just one nice, long drag
OneTwoThree.
Turn around so you don't have to see
The sun not waving hello to you
And make love to a lighter
Fall asleep with it still burning
That makes four
Sleep until
Something scratches at the roof of your mouth
It might be me
It'll be five, six before you know it
Seven Eight Nine Ten
Must be that damn woman again
Wish I knew her name
Act
I can feel grass growing
All along the insides
Of my skin and my mouth and in-between my toes and
I think that
The inside of my heart must look like
A garden and
I think that
When I hold just still enough
I can feel petals and
Leaves and things
Tickling my lungs and maybe even
My liver
And I just
Wanted to thank you
For taking the time
To plant them all
Intimacy isn't
Your skin on my skin
While you
Breathe into me;
No.
That's all just
Backseats and front seats and
Half an hour before curfew and
Realizing how complicated belt buckles are;
That's all
That is.
While intimacy is
Being barefoot in front of you
Because my toes move like lips and eyebrows
And wrinkle like the bridge of your nose
While intimacy is
Yawning without covering your mouth
Making wishes out loud
Singing somewhere other than the shower
and admitting what song reminds me of
You;
And so
Even though
I've got a hand on your buckles
And my tongue on your throat,
Don't expect to catch me without my socks
Her name was Alice and I was very much in love with her; I always had been, and I always would be. She was beautiful, in her own way, and quiet as the wind's knocking knuckles against a window. She didn't smile as often as I wish she had, and her laugh was like a volcano erupting; loud and unexpected. She read more poetry than she wrote and painted her toenails red but refused to wear open-toed shoes. She never, never, never broke a promise.
"Do you believe in fate?" She asked me, lying on her side and watching me carefully, a blade of grass between her teeth.
"What do you mean?" I answered with a question and she didn't smile, just stared
They Catch One Another by ForeverIsLimited, literature
Literature
They Catch One Another
"Do you think that
Snowflakes are afraid to fall?
I'd be
Terrified
To jump like they do."
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To love me, too
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To fall in love, again
I wonder if she
Knows that
My arms are so wide open
That if I stretch any further
I'd break
"No,
I think
That they catch one another."
And I think
I'll catch you, too
When you're ready to fall
This is a letter.
Dear You,
It isn't a love letter.
A flowery confession would be easy
No, not flowerybut a confession, all the same
It is a recipe, I think
Two tablespoons regret
One ounce bitter
Mostly it's pathetic
You don't know me like you used to
So maybe you can't hear/feel/see
What's going on behind all of these vowels
So, (for mostly Old Time's sake.) I'll tell you
I am
On my knees
On my stomach
My forehead to the floor
I am
Crying into the carpet
Praying into my hands
Pleading and begging too quietly for you to hear
I am
So sorry
I could write four books on the ways I am sorry
Everything
She says that it stars out with
One.
Or two. threefourfive.
(pop, pop, pop.)
And down with a slurp
It's dizzy
and it's maybe a little bit
fuzzy.
but, whatever it is,
sigh,
"Oh, God," she says, "whatever it is,
it's better than what really is."
And so it goes
Pop! Pop!
One, two, four... seven
Things are turning
Most everything is churning
And she's got her head
in her hands
And she's shaking
And she's laughing
And I think she might be crying
And then
And then
She looks up and she says to me,
"One day, no special day, you look down, and you see that you're holding seven different rainbows in the palm of your hand."
"Bu
Creative Writing 01 by ForeverIsLimited, literature
Literature
Creative Writing 01
Cross my heart and hope to die, right?
I pinky promise, I won't tell
Whisper some more, in my ear
Tell me everything you think I want to hear.
I'm the monster underneath your bed;
Hungry for your secrets, fingernails, and toes
Covered in nail polish and perfumes,
Why don't you
Pull the covers up, just a little bit further
Everybody knows, that if you can't see me
Then I can't see you
Let's talk morbid, let's talk God and religion
Let's talk about the better sex and the creepy crawlies beside your bed
Let's talk war!
Let's talk famine!
Now, now, let's not pretend you can't hear me.
Tell me a story.
Tell me you're sorry.
No, n
Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?
Give me your hand
Just like the night before
And the night before that
And probably tomorrow night
And let me whisper
Everything you need to hear
Into your ear;
And let me weave things spun sweet
Over your skin and let it keep you warm
And when we come to the place
Where you wake up crying
Instead of turning to me
And watching me break you down with my bare hands
Why don't you pull me close?
Why don't you pull me close?
And kiss me as sweetly as your childhood
And why don't you try to know
Everything you could mean to me
Let me kiss you back
As sweetly as you deserve.
One.
Light up, light up
Cherries brighter than the sun
Hotter than anything we've ever had
The second one
Just before the sun
Slid in-between the frown of a game machine
Even though we both know those things are rip offs
Two Three
No hello and no goodbye
Just one nice, long drag
OneTwoThree.
Turn around so you don't have to see
The sun not waving hello to you
And make love to a lighter
Fall asleep with it still burning
That makes four
Sleep until
Something scratches at the roof of your mouth
It might be me
It'll be five, six before you know it
Seven Eight Nine Ten
Must be that damn woman again
Wish I knew her name
Act
I haven't updated my journal for quite some time-- things have been a little more than a little crazy. But what's a girl to do? Just gotta keep movin' and shakin', I s'ppose.
My family and I have recently been going through a lot of changes; I've been making some not very good decision for quite some time, now. Or had been making some not very good decisions, I suppose is a better way to phrase it. I've spent some time in an Acute Behavioral Unit and am now in an Intensive Outpatient Care unit for an estimated few months. That's certainly not the entire story-- but there's the gist of it. To the people who check my page regularly, I apologiz
I'm not sure how many people living in my area of Utah, but those who do have probably heard about the fourteen year old boy who was hit by the UTA train. His name was JJ and he really was a great guy.
As far as I know, he was walking to a friend's house to walk with her to school. He had put his books and his jackets down, had his iPod in his ears and the snow was coming down hard. There had been speculation of suicide but anyone who really knew JJ knows that he wouldn't have. It was an accident. A tragedy. He went to soon; but he gave hundereds of people a gift that no one would ever want to return and everyone will cherish; and I think we
Shakespeare; I love you. As should the rest of the literary community and anyone who has ever dreamt.
I haven't been writing as much as I usually do, or rather, I haven't been posting as much as I usually do. I don't even know how long it's been. But I'm going to start trying to write and post more often. I always feel so much better after I write something; its like cleansing yourself. I've never been baptised and frankly I don't plan on it, but the feeling I get after finishing a poem or a short story is how I think a baptism should feel.