me and the skies

FEATURED MAGE VIA SPACE.COM BY CORY POOLE

i like to think that the evening sky and my mind are the same.

twins from different times meeting so close, yet so far.

the evening sky wondering, worrying, if it would ever evolve into dark nothingness,

or if twinkling lights would poke through,

little stars like little spots of hope shining through the constant worry.

a constant thought that shifts between what if and when,

the thought of ‘what if one day, we collide,

smashing together into oblivion,’

turns into the question of ‘when? when will we explode together in a violent ray of colors and emotions?’

i often ponder how and why as well.

how will it happen?

why does it happen?

in my deep thoughts, i like to believe that the how is in a horrendously beautiful explosion,

feeling colors and seeing sounds,

experiencing a new bliss that is so peaceful, it’s almost violent.

and when it comes to why, i like to imagine it’s because of fate.

when everything came together, when our world formed

there was some small, microscopic being that was left in the debris of the beginning,

that was there, to one day make me and the sky collide,

to bring two lost souls, separated so long ago, together once again.

when i was little, i would watch the evening sky, transtion in such a slow way,

subtle,

quiet,

so you don’t notice it has changed until it’s already  happened,

and now, as i grow, as i transition, i find another common ground between me and the evening sky

both changing in tiny, little, sneaking ways,

until one day, you wake up and find,

i’ve reunited with my once lost twin, from another time

Watching

The world is

going up in flames.

we’re watching the people

made of cotton

burn it all down

 

and everyone else is

screaming.

 

isn’t it crazy?

how we’re so loud

and they won’t listen.

how we sit powerlessly in a

city hours away

and watch the house next door

burn away.

 

we are arguing about

paint,

pygmit,

melanin.

we’re arguing about the people

that aren’t in magazines.

 

The people that

make up our world.

 

I’m watching a movie.

evil films from the past.

all of these years blur

Into one

a mass of pain,

pain for the masses.

 

Nothing has changed.

 

fin.

the lights that shine through

possible trigger warning, please continue reading at your own discretion. 

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the light that shines through

 

i love nothing more than the night skies,

angelic darkness and twinkling stars winking at me like a wise, old soul,

telling me that everything will be alright.

i wish for nothing more than to keep even one window open to hear the soft sounds of the night, so they can lull me to sleep,

see the things of the night that no one else sees so they can visit me in my dreams,

a secret between me and midnight,

but since i was just a girl i was told, ‘Mija, if you keep your curtain open then they will see you at night, they will climb up the ladder of your dreams so they can catch a peak of you changing into your Cinderella pajamas.’

if your curtains fall open just a tiny, sneaking inch, then when the cars drive past they will let their lights shine through into your room,

so all the peeping toms of the neighborhood can catch a glance of your sleeping face,

looking calm for once in your life because in your dreams you don’t have to worry about the registered sex offender on your street,

or the three registered sex offenders on your best friends street,

or the five registered sex offenders on your other best friends street

the lights from the cars cast shadows into your room that form into the man your mother told you about when you were six and you couldn’t understand why someone wanted to see you while you slept, while you were stuck in a vulnerable coma of candy land and sugar plums,

and now that you’re twenty-three, living on your own, you close your curtains but forget to triple check that they’re closed all the way,

and the next thing you know car lights are shining through to you and you’re six years old again wearing your princess pj’s and you call out for your mom,

but all you get in a response is a grown mans hand holding a rag against your face that smells like a

flowery,

sickly sweetly,

chemically smell,

and suddenly your eyes flutter shut and you no longer worry about the lights that shine through from the night skies

What You’re Worth

I’m not good with math
Or numbers or change
but here’s an equation
I’ll try to explain
if I start with a positive
and lose any cents
My account becomes negative
make any sense?
I know you don’t get it
Just hear me out
I’ve run out of worth
causing debt and doubt
I don’t take loans
grants or gifts
in the form of cheap thrill
Or fake relationships
so try and keep quiet
don’t fuss or holler
Bc what’s your two cents
Compared to my dollar
You still don’t get it
so let me just say it
I am changing for me
And no opinion can delay it
So in Dollars, cents
pennies or quarters
know your self worth
And stop taking orders
So better yourself
and don’t be ashamed
add up your value
Bc everyone needs change

Failure

It pins you down

Captures you in its grasp and won’t let you go.

You can try as hard as you would like

But nothing you do will help

The voice in your head

Constantly reminding you that you failed

You did not succeed

You’re a failure and a disappointment

Don’t try again

It’s not worth it

Waste of time, space and energy

Give up.

chapter one: the broken girl in the coffee shop

chapter one: the broken girl in the coffee shop

she was not the type of girl to wait around after school just to watch you walk to your locker.

she would not wait around at the coffee shop after your practice just to watch you order your large strawberry flavoured water and yoghurt parfait cup.

she would not give you the answers to yesterday’s homework no matter how important that game or practice was, ” or was it a party this time?” she’d ask in an almost sarcastic tone.

she was a tough one, there was a certain stubbornness to her that you admired.

her light brown eyes had seen some of the darkest days you are yet to experience, but you loved it, you loved how she managed to get through it all.

she was not dying to get to know you, but god knows you would do anything to get to know her better.

the quiet girl who just transferred from california, was that her name? her name!  you don’t even know her name.

you started to stay after school to get a glance of her on her way to her car, backpack half open, hair a mess.  it was cute.  you thought it was cute.

after your practice at the coffee shop you would glance around hoping some day she would be sitting alone reading her favourite book, then you’d approach her right then and there and get her name.

weeks go by, she seems to have disappeared.  you see her occasionally when walking from class to class.

apparently, she has been seeing someone. someone who you know is not any good for her, but as long as she is happy right?

one night in the coffee shop you glance over at the brunette girl with light brown eyes sitting next to someone.

you hear the pain in her words as she opens her mouth, voice trembling, ” we were doing so well”

minutes go by and there she is alone.  wiping the tears off of her rosy cheeks.

you grew angry with yourself, why didn’t you comfort her? why didn’t you go and sit by her? ask her if she was okay?

these thoughts attacked your panicked mind until you got up and walked over.

there you were sitting next to the broken girl in the coffee shop.

no words were exchanged, as she placed her head in the warmth of your embrace.

she doesn’t have her car, so you’ll drive her home.

you won’t ever forget that rainy night or the dark pink and purple sky.

she lives close but you don’t mind taking her.  you hope she feels better, and not alone.

you got up and out of your chair, let her feel her emotions without having to hide them behind her grey tear stained sweatshirt.  drove her home so she’d be safe.  you offered to stay in case she didn’t want to be alone.

little do you know she’ll remember this night forever

mt

 

I’m Scared

featured image via Panna Bagoly

 

I’m Scared 

 

No matter how loud I scream

No one hears me

I plead and I beg

Stop please

But the agony continues

Every move I make

Every word I say

Is wrong.

I try and hide from all of this

4 walls that when I am enclosed in I should feel safe

Not today

Today I feel far from safe

Scared and fearful

Underneath the blankets in the darkness

The tears fall and I want nothing more than for it to stop

Once again

No one can hear me.