¿El hermoso, por qué usted llora? Para la vida. ¿Por qué usted llora para la vida? Porque es triste.
Quello bello, perchè piangete? Per vita. Perchè piangete per vita? Poiché è triste.
She dances on tiptoes to the song, one arm on an invisible shoulder, one holding an invisible hand. Her eyes closed, an almost-smile on her face, she gracefully places a foot forward, then back, to the side, then to the other side. They laugh at her, maybe because they know how to dance, maybe because she looks funny out there dancing with no one. But she doesn’t know. It wouldn’t matter if she did. She’s in another place...
She stands on tiptoes because her dancing partner is so tall. Neither of them know exactly how to dance, but they simply move to the music in a way that seems right, at least to them. Both are half-smiling, aware that they may look ridiculous in pajamas and jeans, but also aware that it doesn’t matter, because the world has shrunk down to a bubble containing them and the music they dance to. She moves her hand from his shoulder to his hair, and runs it through the fluffy brown softness. As his smile widens, so does hers, and they end up grinning at each other, grinning so widely they have to laugh to give the muscles a rest. Still dancing, she tentatively lays her head on his chest. She feels him sigh happily, then rest his head on hers. She smiles, amazed that such small gestures can affect her heart so much. They sway now, every so often taking step to the side, both so content just with the moment, and praying that they get the chance to do this again.
A tear-stained paper lies crumpled on the floor,
But the problems written on it are no more:
Loneliness, suicide, and different kinds of hate;
Cussing, and smoking, and lust on every date;
Disrespect, arguments, and things you shouldn’t see;
Unforgiveness, selfishness, being who they want you to be.
All of these, a grocery list, of heavy, burdening sins,
Everything was dropped tonight when they let Jesus in.
Let Him in to clean that room where their temptations lay.
Let Him in to dry the tears and clean the guilt away.
For some, the words came hard that night, for some words came fast,
But all of them, each single one, had burdens that they cast.
And so now, the little words scrawled tightly on that list
Are really quite irrelevant because they ceased to exist.
This doesn’t mean they’re perfect, or that they’ll never fall,
It simply means God’s heard their cry, and they won’t have to carry it all.
Grocery List of Sins
Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]
"She tried to mess with me and stuff," he said in a soft voice. "But I was like, Whoa, no way, chill out! I'm not telling you this to make you jealous or anything, I just want you to know I won't cheat on you, I'll be faithful."
A thrill of joy had gone through her at that. The way he said it, like he wanted to please her, and he was trying to reassure her that he cared, it just made her happy. She was speechless, so she just smiled on her end of the phone, and said, "You know what? I love you."
You're a [-liar-], and you know where [-liars-] go, right? They go to court.
If you saw me dancing by myself, would you come and dance with me? Be honest.
Fudge. I am [\/tired\/]. So freakin' tired. You know, it's one thing to be physically tired, but try physically and
mentallytired. Now that's really exhausting. Sleep beckons tauntingly, yet evades, because you just can't stop [-thinking-].
Black curatins over stormy windows,
Sad boys crying in their hands,
Secret places abandoned when secrets die,
A surprise not going as planned.
White walls with nothing on them,
Songs so beautiful and sad,
A moon that's full of memories,
People who're sick gone bad.
Stuffed animals with no one to hold them,
A butterfly with ruined wings,
Someone who dies unknown,
Heart-rending songs beautiful people sing.
Broken hearts from infidelity,
Eyes older than age,
Stories with bittersweet endings,
Books missing a page.
When people who love aren't loved back,
Crying in the rain,
Reaching for someone who's not there,
One of your friends being in pain.
Curling in a ball and crying,
Leaving love behind,
When beautiful things get ruined,
Things you just can't find.
Blue Between Black and White
Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]
The day she walked away,
They say it broke her heart that day,
They say she knew she couldn't stay,
And let him use her heart for play.
He begged her please: she answered nay,
The day she walked away.
The life she led was by his way,
Everything for him, it was okay
To hurt for love, she'd always say.
She would do just as she may,
But one bad move, her heart he'd flay --
Until the day she walked away.
His solid touch held dejection at bay,
Her worship of him kept them from a fray,
In the cool of the night, they lay
Wrapped up in each other, and sometimes she'd pray
That they'd be as hidden as a needle in the hay.
But not on the day she walked away.
The day she walked away.
They say it broke her heart that day.
They say she knew she couldn't stay
And let him use her heart for play.
So now she's alone and sits on the quay
Since the day she walked away.
The Day She Walked Away
Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]
They say let go,
Like it's really that easy,
Like it's just a relaxation of muscles,
Like it's just as easy as forgetting.
Hah, forgetting's not easy,
Forgetting's as hard as letting go,
But it is easier, in a way.
Let go.
I laugh cynically.
I can forgive, but I can't forget.
I can hold tight to hardship,
But
I can't let go.
Or is it,
I won't let go.
Why should I?
Would it be easier?
Would it be better for me?
Would it help me win?
I don't really think it matters,
It's not like I want to go back.
Not like I want him back.
Surprised?
I sometimes wish for what we had,
But I would never go back.
No, not ever.
Yes, I loved him, maybe I still do,
What's that got to do with it?
No, don't answer -- it's bull -- and I don't want to hear it.
So what do I have to hold?
What do I have to hold...
You're kinda funny, you know?
I can hold my grief.
Oh bloody...no, shh, be QUIET!
Grief is not pain,
It hurts, but not intolerably,
More...intimately than anything else, really.
It's something when there's nothing.
You think it's bad, don't you?
No, don't answer, I already know you do.
Oh well.
I'm doing just fine, aren't I?
No, don't answer that either.
I am. I know it.
And let's say, hypothetically, I'm not.
I will be.
Yes, I will.
I will win.
Yes, I will.
Remember that:
I WILL WIN.
With or without your pathetic excuse for help.
And my grief will clap for me when I do.
It's there to hold me when I'm alone.
It's there period.
Oh, I'm masochistic?
Are you sadistic?
Well, you're certainly not helpful.
You do not try.
I glare coldly.
Don't lie to me.
It's bull, and I will not put up with it.
I think we're about done.
Yes, I do-- I'm looking at the clock.
I stand up and say concedingly
You're only good for one thing,
And that's to make me mad enough to tell the truth.
So, I will hold my grief close
-- I smirk --
And see you later.
Sessions with Mr. TIPPs
Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]
TIPPs stands for Terrible Inner Psychologist Person. The 's' is just because I want to.
The moon shines brightly onto a bed through the clean windows in a upstairs bedroom. A girl sits cross-legged on the bed. She holds her wrist in her hand, carressing the small, white scars in an affectionate, dreamy manner.
Darkness, a friend, not an enemy,
Nothing for me to fear out here,
Because I am stronger than everything that lurks in the shadows:
I am the shadows.
A queer sort of justice,
Evildoers dead will be found,
Pit life is all I need.
I feed on the blood of those who are evil
Though I am evil myself.
Ah yes, I am damned,
Bound to walk, to kill, to hide in darkness
For longer than my natural life.
But maybe, I'm not so damned,
Maybe, just as a mortal human,
I have the choice to be saved, to be good.
Is it possible?
How can it be?
I kill to live,
Though I'm never alive.
I judge those who are like me,
Though they do what they do not out of necessity,
But out of greed, out of malice.
So? Does that make me different?
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
Could God forgive me this?
He knows I want to be a saint, though I am a killer.
Lestat
J. M. Kent
posted by J. M. Kent @ 11:16 AM 1 comments
Sunday, October 30, 2005
You Were
You were my breath, you were my water,
You were my life, you were all that mattered.
You were my comfort, you were my dream,
You were my love, you were all I would need.
You were my sky, you were my sea,
You were my rain, you were there for me.
You were my bed, you were my friend,
You were my music that would never end.
You were my chocolate, you were my kiss,
You were my angel, you were my bliss.
You were my smile, you were my wings,
You were my laughter, you were my king.
You were my warmth, you were my joy,
You were my hug, you were my boy.
You were my pillow, you broke my shell,
You always caught me when I fell.
You were my heaven, you were my hug,
You were my moon, you were from above.
You were all these things and more,
You were everything I could wish for.
You loved me for being me,
I was who you wished to see.
Now you're gone, like everything else.
Can I live, without myself?
I don't want a man who [catches me up when I fall], I want a man who [keeps me from falling]
Just as a once in a while thing, when I feel down, I'll talk to you, referring to you as you, rather than him...
How can I help feeling let down? You may not have actually promised me much, no, not much at all, but I seem to remember a few certain things, and you did say you'd love me no matter what happened, that in five years, it wouldn't matter what people said, am I right? Of course I am. But I mean, you still say that, so what's changed? What's changed indeed. I suppose the fact that I've stopped lying to myself might have helped me see that you never did (and still don't) really love me. So I can't really complain to anyone but myself for you not loving me can I? Well, for me finally knowing that you don't love me and feeling rather alone and used, possibly for the first time. Oh well, first time for everything eh?
*upon entering, begins coughing uncontrollably
Ever have periods where you don't really feel much emotion, you don't really seem to think as much? Where it seems to be that you are simply existing, rather than living? Almost like a sleep of the soul, I suppose you could say poetically, if you wished. To me, it's rather alarming, and I'll try to fight it, try to feel soemthing, try to think about things that make me have feelings, but it doesn't seem to work. I feel horrible, it's like going to a funeral and not crying, you know? Anyway, I may very well be the only one who has ever felt this way. Oh well, better for the rest of you right?
Hey Dad,
Just kinda wonderin' where you are.
I mean, I know you're never far,
But tonight, I feel alone,
Like in my heart, nobody's home.
I'm just wondering if you remember your promise --
To never leave me? Have you forgotten?
Cuz there's heartache close behind me,
And I'm hoping that you'll find me
Before the world comes crashing down
In top of me and I hit the ground,
Where the floor has been worn thin
From when I fall and fall again.
Honestly, I hate to complain.
I mean, I can probably stand the rain.
It's just, you told me you'd be here,
But I don't feel you, so I fear
You've let me down. You've walked away.
If you were anyone else, I wouldn't have anything to say:
If I were anyone else, I'd walk away too.
But, see, the thing is, you're not "anyone"; you're you.
I seriously thought you were someone I could trust,
You always said you would get to me or bust.
But where are you now?
All I see are stormclouds.
Dad, I really need to feel you near.
You really get me, loud and clear.
You really love me, even when I hate me.
And right now, I really need you to save me.
Provide the cave where I can hide,
Help me to be brave while I'm on this ride.
Please, don't just leave me to sink or swim:
Without your arms around me, I doubt that I can win.
Please come back, I'm calling out your name!
I don't want to go back to being lonely and without aim.
Oh, wait. From my heart, from deep inside some cleft,
I'm hearing a whisper, it's saying... "I never left."
A Letter To Somewhere
This, in case you don't know, not written to my physical father, who I actually call Pa. It's written to my father in heaven and on earth, and really, all over. Just thought I'd explain that.
I see a girl sitting all alone
Her head hung low
I touch her shoulder , cold to the bone
Her eyes more skittish then a doe
Have you come to play?
she tenderly asks
I can tell shes been sitting here all day
But at home I've got endless tasks
Her eyes are clear
the lightest blue
It would kill me to seem them unclear
Or a darker hue
So I sit on the bench and hang my head low
I look out far as she begins to sob
As her tears fall so does the snow
Her body shaking trying not to sound like a snob
She whispers it silently
Love...she mutters
It's like a young child killing you violently
It hurts worse then death she stutters
I just nod my head
And close my eyes against the blistering snow
She thinks of death
as we both hang our heads Low.
Look a poem for you my pretty
Written by [Ego Diligo Tu]
*hugs knees tightly to chest* I want a hug. Not a hug from someone in my family, not from Caleb, or from Bethany, or from someone who it would be normal, or awkward. I just want a hug. Cuz I'm just so feakin' emo, if that's what you wanna think. Cuz I just want attention, you can think that too. You can think what you want cuz it's a free country. But I still want my hug.
I daze off contentedly into space
With you whispering sweet nothings in my ear,
Words that mean nothing, yet mean everything.
We are safe, we are protected, because we waited
Until the right time, until the right night.
So let me touch you, let me kiss your mouth,
I made a mistake before, but not with you.
I am forgiven, and you are amazing.
Touching, holding, loving is not a sin for us,
And we never profaned the gift together.
So let us open the gift, again and again,
Because it never gets old, and it’s always beautiful.
Let me take time to absorb your beauty,
And I’ll glow for you like a star,
Because your love will make me shine,
And our innocence will be our key
To unlocking the door never opened by either of us.
I never had that key, you never had that key,
But together we’ll open that door,
And explore what lies behind.
Waiting
For my soulmate, who’s out there somewhere