My Ten Word Story

inside the mind of a confused poet

[tenwordstory]

i still have our messages from 7 years ago

and this is the most we’ve spoken in 9

some day i will delete your number

i will no longer need to check your socials

or even think what you are up to

and if you still paint

and how your great american novel is doing

and if i’m still the main character

eventually i won’t care,

eventually

- eventually i will delete our texts

[tenwordstory]

today was the first day i didn’t write about you

[tenwordstory]

I stumbled across your page, and every last one of your posts made me cry. Your posts were everything that I didn’t know I needed to see rn. Thank you !

youre so sweet. thank you for reading

[tenwordstory]

im sad  in the sense that  my thoughts feel like 20 pound weights in my head  and my body wants to turn inward, shape itself into a ball  under my sheets. Im sad  in the sense that I actually miss you? there is question mark there  because you dont deserve to be in my thoughts. im sad  and it has finally triumphed my anxiety.

another word vomit?

[tenwordstory]

A day has 24 hours enough time to make us crazy. Our internal clocks tell us the minutes are spewing out like the air we breathe But if you listen - listen the minutes are kind. They surf along our arms right off the tips of fingers, the seconds nuzzle in dips of skin. Learn to be patient, We are merely giving home to time

the key to patience (april 23)

[tenwordstory]

this time last year we cooked dinner for us two. stopped eating so we could slow dance to the killers. i whispered that i loved you but it wasn’t like other times. i needed you to feel that i forgave you. this is my soliloquy my prolonged goodbye, i’ve started to think my horoscope is right i am afraid to be alone with your ghost, who can relive those supercuts over and over. i have thought about how my spirit has felt stuck in moments of shatter where my tears burn enough to stain the rims of my eyes and chokes my breath down to a muffle because remembering hurts or maybe forgetting hurts, that bad.

hard feelings 

[tenwordstory]

i smoked my first cigarette because it was the closest thing to death i could find. all i really wanted was ice cream to smack against my heated tongue. not that cheap ass tub of ice cream from stop & shop but a scoop of cappuccino crunch with rainbow sprinkles, from the parlor we got stuck in when it was raining so hard it hurt to step outside. usually the nailing of rain drops helps me breathe but lately it has been monsoons each breath of smoke made me want to kiss death back stick my tongue down its black throat, grab its hands around my neck. i wanted to make love to it, invite it back into my bed so i didn’t have to wake up. it has been raining i have been soaked and now it hurts to step inside to get dry.

hurricanes in april 

[tenwordstory]

What state are you in?

NJ!

[tenwordstory]

the train is shuffling up rails as birds sing on the edge of the roof an owl calls but gets no answer and i am now awake i wish it were raining the combination of droplets with a runaway train sounds just about right there is no sun yet but i can see her rays peaking through she is stubborn demanding to be noticed, like the wind dancing with my threaded curtain my sheets call me back to sleep their whispers sound divine and i am now caving to their song

a morning (3/28/20)

[tenwordstory]

I love your writing, I was thinking id love your drafts even more. All the things you want to say but can't find the perfect words for yet, all the jumbled up ideas and feelings that don't make complete sense yet without the right words. I like that kind of stuff, and your writing got me thinking about it for some reason

you are welcome to see my drafts any time. cant promise they are any good!

[tenwordstory]

Hey there’s so much more out there you’ve not experienced and all the great adventures waiting for you to explore.

this is all true. there is so much more out there.

[tenwordstory]

the sun is pecking pecking its way up naked sky. you and i sit on this velvet field of lilac still words apart i have never felt your touch before now. only you remember cradling me as i took my first breath and years later as you took your last those memories are somewhere, just not on this field with us. suddenly  you and i become “we” gracefully sliding through petals they rub our feet into divinity. as our hands gracefully clutch tight. you placed some petals in my hair sun rays cast reflection on your cheek and your smile captures holiness. our eyes stare as if meeting for the first time, to me it is the first but i recognize you.

heaven & earth (happy birthday mom)

[tenwordstory]

we slice ourselves open

to strangers

and become vulnerable

to infection

but love isn’t about prying your ribs open

it shouldn’t cost sacrifice

yet we continue to scar

our delicate skin

but maybe someday

you’ll understand

all it takes is for someone

to trace the edges of your skin

to love you.

[tenwordstory]

once mi abuela said, “personas con tatujes no van al cielo” at that time, I already had three. Maybe God will allow me to go to heaven because the one of my ribs are of my mother’s initials. how much do i care about heaven? it feels heaven means believing in hell. a space where there is a God and there is a Satan. Maybe God can be both? a soul, evil enough to bless my mother with cancer, who was terrible enough to take her away from me. blame it on satan I’ll blame God for my lack of memories of her. Maybe God wanted to teach me a lesson, because satan loves me

Maybe God 

[tenwordstory]

What’s your zodiac sign?

aquarius sun, rising taurus and leo moon :) 

[tenwordstory]

red in the corner of my mouth dried out from the night before must’ve rubbed off the rim of my glass im glad they made such a perfect pair. red as in intimidation a shield of wicked polish, painted on my beds leaving stains on them I hate traces of something left behind. my nails match my iPhone you know this from the mirror selfies I love to take hopeful my camera catches something special. read as in, the messages I refuse to open paragraphs which linger scratch ing the surface of my screen. red isn’t my color because it reminds me roses die just as soon as they bloom – of blood that innocent spirit making home inside me sometimes I want to kick it off my property it has squatted 22 years. red as in the fire extinguisher we used when the skillet caught fire while we made pancakes and the smoke gathered above us right before we caught fire. red as in redemption your sins that blacken it is not right to punish your body for mistakes the universe had planned long before. let go of the hue that has never been good for you.

self portrait as red 

[tenwordstory]

Every fucking poem starts with

Lately

but yes, lately -

i’ve been feeling this

this amorphous anxiety - the end of the world

feeling in the pit of my stomach

why?

maybe about my future

dignity or self worth

i don’t fucking know

but i do know

that lately,

anxiety is a weird friend

the one that wakes me up

who says i don’t need coffee

i give you enough caffeine

and tells you it’s ok

to cry every fucking day

(an average of 3 times)

because you need to

and that is a really great friend.

and LATELY,

my mind has found comfort in not existing

because maybe it’s easier

Lately,

I am not longer hungry.

- Lately (November 24)