Redemption: A Writing Collection @delicatepages-blog - Tumblr Blog

a found poem

a story underneath stained-glass windows

we all dream of something for ourselves carrying our lives, forgiving, breathing colors into coal

we dream of a simple truth by our own hands yawning to life in front of computer screens and maps of places we want to go a symphony of the unknown arrayed before us, yet no motivation to make our dreams reality terrified of the impossible vocabulary of sorrow

our intentions are only the best mingled by one wind--our breath thank the work of our own hands, not others who claim to cheat through living

here you are always home

#inspired by richard blanco's one today #from the presidential inauguration!#poetry

what would you tell your parents?

i am me and i am also partly her (but not hers, never hers)

how do you describe something too simple for words in a way that i could understand? blue of sky or blue of tears? unresponsive and worried respectively

if you are you, then who am i? i don't have all of the answers.

#poetry

the skin under my eyes is two shades too dark it has been for years my eyes have always betrayed the careful mask of my other features my words obviously carefully thought and rearranged minutes prior to avoid the stutter drawn forth by my unwarranted worry

two people have seen this side to me two hundred miles beneath the surface feeling freely and losing sleep from having fun instead of enemies dark blue to teal silently introspective curious i wouldn't change a thing for you but you wouldn't ask it of me

#poetry #favorites

lost & found

fairweather to unconditional, complex to simple, demeaning to caring, sour to sweet.

similarities not overlooked-- heroes of their own right, martyrs to a good cause but unknowingly losing sight of it along the way, eyes seeing but never understanding what's going on around them, stupidly going back for more pain and verbal abuse, incapable of letting go regardless of how often the opposite is adamantly stated.

certain to unsure, enormous to casual, unbreakable to stubborn, unwilling to adventurous.

behind one of these doors lies happiness but which is it?

#poetry

A glint of silver.

Freeze.

A chill, pushing honey locks aside.

Hot breath in your ear, on your neck.

Black lace drapes over your shoulder.

Pain, over so quickly it could have been imagined.

Brilliant orange flame in the corner of your eye, blink and it's gone.

Turn around, the room is empty save for a single piece of paper.

'Did you miss me? I'll be back soon.'

#I really like this piece #for some reason

You lied.

I despise liars almost as much as I hate her, and the fact that she is a chronic liar makes me loathe her even more.

But I needed to get away this weekend--away from her, and away from my best friend hidden carefully in the back of my drawer, ready to be there whenever I need them.

I need to escape from my thoughts, from myself, for once. But I can't do that when I'm home alone to drown in my thoughts, suffocate in self-pity, and lie around with nothing to do but sulk.

I didn't expect you to avoid me like the plague, dodge my friendly conversation, ignore the fact that I am completely alone. I didn't expect you to not care about my lack of response, regardless of the fact that you rarely talk to me. I didn't expect you to ignore the pained look on my face, the hurt in my eyes, the agony in my wrist from too many long nights of gaming and writing too hard to take the pain away.

I didn't expect you to prefer her (stupid vapid shallow painfully uncomfortable boring loudmouth stereotypical teenager) to me, but I suppose I should have seen it coming.

I'm done.

#old #realistic fiction

Don't wake me up if I'm dreaming.

I don't think that that reality would be any better than this one. I may be alone here, but I could be absolutely lonely in that one. I may not be happy all of the time, but at least I know what's going on, for the most part.

I'm happy, or as happy as I'm going to get, but I still want to die.

#alyssa #realistic fiction

"!"

You spin around, hearing your name. But there's no one there--you're alone.

It's not unusual, of course. You're always alone. You weren't, once, but everyone left you. So now it's just you and your belongings, though you've been getting rid of them slowly. You won't need them soon, anyway. You'll donate most of it; hopefully it will be used by someone.

You had everything once. Back when you weren't alone. Now you have nothing but your brain, taunting you into remembering that you're all by yourself.

Every day is the same. You don't even know what day it is now. It doesn't matter to you. You don't do anything. You sit around and wait for things to change, wait for something new to happen. It never does. You've tried to get out there, make things different. It didn't work. You tried to put yourself into a different situation, but you failed.

You're used to being alone by now. That doesn't make it hurt any less.

#i think i'm finished with this one

What would you do?

What would you do if something happened to me?

If you got a call from my mum saying I was in the hospital, what would your first thought be? Would you think that I did it to myself? What if I hadn't, though? What if something I couldn't control happened & harmed me? If it were irreparable, what would you do? What if my mum abandoned me like she promises she'll do once my brother lives with my dad? You say you'd take me in, but would you really? Another mouth to feed, more bills to pay. You'd be stuck with me constantly. Would you do it?

What if my mum kicked me out because she discovered one of the numerous secrets I keep from her? What if I developed diabetes like most of my dad's family did? What if I got cancer? What if I got an immune system disease? What if I went blind (like the doctor said I would by the age of thirty, or spontaneously)?

Would you take care of me? (I wouldn't let anyone else do it, you know; it'd be you or I'd do it myself.)

Would you still love me?

Picture

"Come on Emmy, it's time to get up!"

I groan, rolling over in the nest I'd made in bed at some point the past night.

"'m too comfy," I say into my pillow.

"We need to leave soon, you need to get dressed, silly! You can take a nap later, too."

I sigh. "Fine, I guess I will." I remain in the same spot for another five minutes, my eyes closed. I can hear Olivia getting ready, and my brain tells me that I should be doing the same, but my haven of blankets is too nice to get out of this early in the morning.

"I know what you're trying to do, Em, and it's not working."

Damn. She's too smart. I roll over, facing her.

"I don't wanna go," I share.

"I know, but we have to. You need to do this, and if you do, then I'll play a video game with you later."

My face lights up. I'm a natural gamer, but poor Olivia isn't so great at video games. For her to offer that means she must be desperate.

"Okay, one more minute," I give in.

"No. No more minutes, we're already almost late." Suddenly, Olivia lunges over to me and pokes me in the stomach. I squeal, flailing my legs and jumping up.

"I'm up, I'm up, no tickling!" I plead.

"Thank you. Now get dressed, we need to go."

I quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, and shove a poptart in my mouth before leaving the apartment, Olivia right behind me.

------

"I'm so tired," I complain, collapsing onto the floor as soon as I walk into my room.

"I bet you are. But you did a great job today!" I beam. Olivia only gives compliments when she absolutely knows they're true, so I really must have done well.

"Come here, let's take a picture!"

I frown. I hate taking photos of myself. But I follow her directions--she looks so excited about it that I can't make myself turn down her request.

I sit next to her on the floor. She pulls me into a hug after putting the camera's autotimer on, which causes me to almost fall onto my face.

"Okay, smile!" she says.

I attempt to do so, but it feels fake. Olivia notices this, and so she tickles me yet again.

"Emmy, smile!"

I giggle crazily.

The camera flashes.

Dear Matty

Dear Matty,

You're always worrying about other people. Whether it's your little brother or your best friend, you care so much about them. You're smart--quite smart--and you have a lot of potential. You could do great things someday, if you tried.

You take on so many things at once and still manage to complete them all extremely well, if not effortlessly.

You are so strong. You've hung in there through a lot of bad things, and you still manage to be yourself. Things do get better, see? Stay strong, lovely.

Keep a positive attitude--I know it's hard, especially with what you have to deal with every day, but you can do it. You have a best friend who loves you and people who genuinely care about you.

You haven't done that for almost a month. You are amazing, don't try to deny that. Don't doubt the compliments you get. You deserve every single one of them and more.

Don't forget to eat, hun. It's not healthy, and I know you don't mean to, but you do not want to go back to those days.

Think before you speak--you could unintentionally hurt someone, and you wouldn't want that.

Be nice to Prudence. She's a keeper, and though I doubt you'd ever hurt her on purpose, just make sure you're not pushing everything onto her, okay? She doesn't need the extra stress.

Stay true to yourself and do what you love, not what makes money.

Love yourself, and love others, no matter what happens.

You try so hard.

Hands

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A hand turns the doorknob, then reaches up in order to push the doors open. The other hand moves to push my hair aside self-consciously.

This is it.

My hands clench, unclench. The right hand's pointer finger picks at a loose piece of skin. The left hand slowly releases the papers clutched in it and places them onto the desk in front of me. My right hand extends to meet the owner of the desk's own hand in a shake, and as I turn away, back to the door, my hands pull at my clothes, fidget, twitch. I open the door and walk back home.

I sit in bed later that night, and my hands are silent.

My hands are slimy; remnants of my last project encompass them. Get it off getitoffgetitoff! It won't. I wash my hands again and again, and nothing changes. No matter what I do, my past actions stay with me--forever. I can move on, past the disgusting feeling, and hope that eventually, one day, I will forget about it. But until then, the shadows will haunt my memories.

Update: 3/26/11

Getting my notebook back from my art program today, so hopefully I'll have a few things to put up later.

♥ Matty

#updates

Sorry

Sorry that I'm too ugly. Sorry that I'm not funny or nice or smart enough for you. Sorry that I'm not a boy like you wanted. Sorry that I'm a nerd, and that I'm socially retarded and I'm still learning how to talk to you, let alone everyone else. Sorry that I'm so needy. Sorry that I "can't take care of myself". Sorry that I'm weak. Sorry that I can't handle this. Sorry that I keep bothering you with all the shit that happens to me. Sorry that you have to ditch me whenever someone else (someone better) comes along. Sorry I'm not good enough, and sorry that I won't ever be good enough. Sorry that I'm such a burden. Sorry for making you worry. Sorry for everything.

I'm sorry.

#to a few people

I smile softly. The breeze pushes my hair into my eyes. I pout at that. You giggle, ruffling my hair and moving my bangs away from my line of vision.

"You're so cute," you say. I disagree aloud, blushing. I can't take compliments, and you know that, but it seems like you're trying to get me accustomed to them.

"Sorry," I say after a few moments. I know you don't like when I disagree with your compliments, but you know that I can't help it.

"It's okay, silly," you respond. I stick my tongue out.

"How's that for silly?" I quip.

"Put that tongue away or I'll steal it," you tease. I do as you say, shoving my hair back once again.

"I need a haircut," I state.

"I know."

I sigh contentedly. This is nice. We're outside the apartment, at a nice park the complex maintains. I'm lying on my back, watching the clouds. You're leaning against a tree, writing. It's quite nice out; the sun is just strong enough that I don't complain about being cold as I tend to do whenever I'm outside. We finally got our flat in Canada. I love it here--even though you're still working on your French, and I haven't managed to find a steady job yet, you're happy, and that's all I wanted.

Have you ever just stopped for a moment? Paused the necessary things you're doing and looked around you? Do you see anything? Do you have any idea at all of what's happening in the world? You could avoid doing that, though. Just go about your life as usual, same things happening every day. You'd be fine that way, of course. But would you be happy? Take a moment and look around you--go on, do it. It's easy. Take in the colors and textures of everything around you. Inhale the scent of something--dinner, perhaps, or that new book smell--and focus on it. Touch things--feel the changes under your fingertips. Open a window and listen to nature. Have some cake, or maybe an apple if that's what you would prefer. Now think about this for a moment, alright? What if you weren't around to notice these things? It'd be awful, right? But what if these things were there all along, and you took them for granted? What if you never smelled the outdoors after a rainstorm? You were too busy with menial things to observe the beauty around you. You wouldn't really miss any of those things if you never truly experienced them. Are you alive right now? How can you tell? Is it because you have a purpose--something to do with your life? What would happen once you completed that, then? Life would be meaningless, right? It's okay to focus on your goals, aspirations, dreams--but take some time to enjoy the little wonders.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Redemption: A Writing Collection