In Fate's ArmsI wish I had the right amount of words,
the proper adjectives, or nouns,
to weave sweet paragraphs
of how much I love you.
I wish I was a true poet,
or a stunning artist.
So I could maybe one day,
show you how much you mean to me.
Through a heart shattering ode,
or the perfect painting of your angelic face.
I bet there's a keeper,
of all the love in the world.
Maybe he knows,
the proper way to tell you.
Maybe he'll flip through his book,
find our names intertwined by ink.
Maybe he'll look up at me,
with a smile on his ancient lips,
one that says, "This is real love.
Don't let it slip away."
And finally, I'll be able
to put into words,
how you make me feel.
How much I adore you.
That you mean the world to me.
The entire Earth.
The moon, and Pluto, too.
That you make me want to cry,
because it hurts so much
that I can't have you.
And you make me want to make love with you,
make me want you so bad.
All in the same moment.
That my heart,
Take My Hand"Jamie." my voice is pleading, and eyes alight with worry.
His pupils are wide, boyish face frightened, as black nails scratch up and down pale arms, dotted with tell-tale track marks. His eyes look feverish and afraid, glittering in the dim room, "They're coming for me." his voice is a spider's whisper and his glance scurries across the room, terrified blues running wall to wall.
"No, no." I try to assure him, "You're safe. It's just fine, Jamie." I let my warm hands caress his upper arms, his shoulders, desperately trying to calm him. He only jerks away from my touch, eyes rolling wildly, searchingly.
"Jamie!" his name is torn from my jagged throat as an agonized cry.
His laughter, usually warm and infectious sounds dangerous as it floats back to me, dodging the speeding cars between us. His feet look too wide for the frail metal railing and he sways unsurely.
A horn screams angrily at him as a truck whizzes by, and suddenly his arms, spread wide
Death Of A Broadway SuperstarI see her sitting on the side of the street,
she's all alone without a home,
people pass her by paying no attention to her cry,
a victim of her own making,
she can't control her body from shaking,
the lethal cocktail she once took,
came back to grip her once again,
she used to have it all,
loved by all the people,
underneath those big bright lights,
she had the life of a superstar,
she was gonna go far,
but broadway got so dark,
and the boulevard lost its shine,
no more taste left in the wine,
no more places left to dine,
all she did was fall from grace,
you can tell by the look on her face,
now here she sits in the darkest place,
no more lights on broadway...
Even if it Kills Me.My father ran off with my mother's best friend when I was five and my sister was three. I watched him pack his suitcases, but I was too young to understand. When I asked him where he was going, he turned to me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Charlie, you're the man of the house now. Take care of your mother and your sister." After that, he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen, wrote something down, and walked out. I went over a read the note: "My key is under the mat. Won't be needing it anymore. Goodbye." That was the last I saw of him. I haven't heard from him since; no birthday cards, phone calls, letters, nothing. When he walked out of that apartment, he walked out of my life.
That was the day my childhood died.
On the other hand, though, my mom has always been around. Well, at least physically - after my dad left, she kind of lost her mind. For the first couple of weeks, she shut herself in her room and wouldn't stop crying; we had to go stay at my Uncle Mike's until she c
i only know i let youHe went into the bathroom on all fours. Gritted his teeth. He was not going to cry. His lips were wet, swelling up, dripping onto the carpet. Why the hell had Mom gotten white carpet?
Why did Mom do a lot of things?
He closed the door softly. The click of the latch made his heart push harder out of his chest. The last thing Trevor wanted was to wake his old man up. He jabbed the button lock (Though that wouldn't stop that man, not if he wanted at the kid bad enough.), another click, slouched against the cabinets built under the sink. He didn't feel anything now. Completely numb. He couldn't even think. He wondered if that's what Angeldust felt like. He could find out any time, knew were Mom's stash was at. There was a unspoken agreement between them to pretend he didn't know what she did locked in her room. But when she'd come out, come into his room when he was laying in bed, gently brush his hair from his forehead... he could smell it on her fingers, on her lips when she bent down to
Dear Monster....Dear Monster
I know you're scared
I know you're hiding
I know that the stuffed bunny you sleep with isn't always enough
I know that right now your black and white world is tainted by red glass
I know that the wall you have damaged is not as damaged as your heart
I know you want to disappear and that's why you try to run away everyday
I know he hurts you
I know you aren't strong enough to stop him
I know that you love him more than he could possibly comprehend
I know that you're right and he will probably never understand
I know he burned you
I know that the cuts and scrapes hurt
I know that the nightmares won't stop for a very long time
I need you to know that fear is hard to overcome
I need you to know that despite being older I still hide
I need you to know that the bunny won't always be the only thing you have
I need you to know that it's not black and white, it's a thousand shades of grey and that's why it's beautiful