[x]

her.she is one hundred percent alone, minus him.

meet her.

she has milk white skin, and jagged bones. her eyes are pale and soft, and could make you surrender under her breath (and they will.)

every night she goes to sleep with a man who touches her, and she feels sick. and she wishes he'd just leave the hair in her face.

(because it's easier to hide tears that way.)

she dreams at night.

her milky skin is spilling over unfamiliar fingers. the freckles on her back match the ones in his eyes, and she feels safe. she offers him her heart, and he closes it into a box.

(she wakes up feeling nine

monotony.we went to vegas. you drove and i pressed myself against the side of the door and breathed out pictures onto your window. you planned to make it big, and i planned to make it a memory. i fell asleep through the city of lights, and it was then i decided that christmas didn't feel the same, and your hands were always cold, even through your gloves.

i sat on the hotel bed and thought of how many people sat exactly where i was. you were in the bathroom buttoning up your shirt. i clenched mine so tightly closed my back pressed through the fabric. this was when i decided this is what suffocating was like. you were talking to me but i only remember

annie.annie paints the end of her erasers red, so every time she erases something, it reminds her she is made of mistakes.

and her mother would be proud, really.

annie has long fawn legs and can't remember the last time she actually drank a glass of water. the feeling of being dehydrated reminds her that she can in fact feel, and her father spends too much time away from home.

and her mother re-named herself "alone."

when she was six they found out she was dyslexic. her father told her she just couldn't see things right. annie went home and stared into the lamp light until her pupils dialated and tears ran down her fac

bipolar hearts.we use to watch Fight Club together, because she said that it made her feel a little less alone, and i could never reply so i held her in my lap.

and she told me she was kalea's dizzy mind.

and in real life, you would think nothing of anything really, because she watches the birds fly just like you do. the morning rises on the same side of her window, and she can watch the clock tick away hours, just like you.

and she told me she was kalea's spinal cord.

i watched her pick at her fingernails for too long, and alway

lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.

   let me introduce you to whom i call "fire-fly."

he has ice white skin and something about the way his hair falls that makes me wish mine would conform to such a beauty.

   looking at you for so long makes me feel. Really feel.

he calls them fire-flies but i say lightening bugs.
fire burns hot against his skin, and i can feel the heat in his heart
but lightening bolt eyes can destroy you.

   but god, it's so beautiful first, but only at first.

he calls me his "freckled girl" and i call him my heart
and he says that i shine undern

still.one.
-

her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.

(and i don't blame her)

two.

-

she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.

william.dreams make him vomit.

meet william.

he has spider-leg fingers and eyes so cold they could stop your heart.
(and they will.)

every night william goes to sleep knowing that someone else is waking up with his only friend, and he wishes he could brush the honey-stained hair from her cheek.

(not the man, who can't even spell love without cheating.)

william dreams at night.

his spider fingers are creeping up the jagged edge of her spine. her skin is the color of milk, and lightly freckled. william keeps her safe, and has made a

mertha.i like to seperate my thoughts into names, to keep them in order.

my lonliness is named mertha, and she'd like to meet you.

mertha sits by me on my bed and we draw pictures of tulips and snails and wonder when that math test was. she takes my hand and grips it slowly, while singing that song my mother use to sing when i was 4.

(and i wonder exactly how she knew the words.)

mertha walks with me in the rain and understands that i don't like to be asked questions in the morning. sometimes when i'm sitting in the bathtub with no running water she won't leave me alone, and mertha knows that she is unwelcome.

watching you spin.you're a disco dancing, drama queen with dirty hair and the permanent smell of stale cigarettes. but god, are you beautiful, twisting and dancing under circular lights,

and vomiting when you're done.(acid does some crazy shit)

your hair was once blonde and beautiful like your eyes, but now it's laying in clumps almost everywhere, because you fucking pull out a strand whenever i'm around, i don't know why i do that to you.

but i never really ever offer to leave, either.

there's that one song that i always hear you listening to, it's the same old shit about love and loss and never being able to forget that special someone, i use to ge

ianeverything starts out black

             but ian sees her in red.

ian is the kind of boy to breathe in pillow cases, and lay in the fetal position waiting for sleep to come, and the outcome doesn't surprise.

                       (it never comes the way he wants it to).

ian is colorblind in his dreams. he wakes up feeling anxious and restless, because he

marla,dear marla,

you never deserved to be shoved under the bed,
like something that was worth forgetting.
i want you to know that I can still hear you singing in the bathroom
it haunts me like your smile does,

remember when we cried our first night there?

as i got better you got worse.
i knew that you weren't okay,
and i should of said something to someone.
but i was selfish, and together we were pretty and sick,

together it felt okay, to not be okay.

your mother stopped calling me when i had run out of things to say,
the day i had no words, all of you dissolved from her mind,
and i wanted you to know marla

a pen at a knife fight.there is twilight in his breathing.
legs like spiders.
eyes of sinking ships,
holding onto the edge with shaking fingertips.
is the water cold?
cold enough to stop air from flowing to his lungs?

auburn hair and a heart too big.
a pen always enclosed in a thoughtful fist.
words spill out one by one,
haunted by ghost nouns and verbs gone wrong.
the thoughts roam from behind his eyes,
make their way down to his spine.
there they hang with poems unread,
while monsters and verses stay trapped in his head.

an empty house can say a lot
of harder times and connections lost.
there he strums a guitar alone,
thinking of the girl he cal

inadequate science.and for you, i write.
there are three times when the clock stops and my eyes open.

1:00

-

there's something i want to say to you, but it stops in my throat and i can't form the words
remember when our skin created valleys, and hills on the bedsheets?
i counted your freckles and you smiled because I was too impatient to finish
my throat finally clears and my lips begin to form, but you're always gone.
always.

5:00

-

if i could tell you something quietly
it would be that i've never seen something so beautiful
my skin pulls towards yours and i crawl over your milky bones
you were on top of me, then my eyes closed,
i can't rememb

the end of forever.i don't know what to tell you.

i could tell you that i'm sorry, but that wouldn't change that i didn't do anything wrong.
i could tell you that i miss you, but that would just give you another opportunity to break my heart.
i could tell you that you're being stupid and immature and selfish and hypocritical, but my opinion doesn't seem to matter anymore.

because we both know that no matter what i do, no matter what i say, i'm still going to end up being the one crying myself to sleep at night while you're dreaming happily of chains being cut and being set free.

i am sorry for something.
i'm sorry i was such a burden to you, i'm sorry you

She glows.
I think that every heartbeat is a plea to be heard
Beat one: I need you.
Beat two: You don't need me.
-

there is probably a reason why girls are the ones who wear makeup.
such as we tend to show our hurt more.
lies can't be seen beneath the foundation
you call it makeup
i call it coverup.
Beat: I don't want you to look underneath me.
-

i use to catch fireflys and throw them to the ground and watch as they glowed
i hope that when I die, i'll explode into a glowing galaxy.

Beat: I wonder if you'd kill me just to watch me glow.

-

those people that have irregular heartbeats,
i won

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messages.it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.

but not the loving kind, the kind where taking a shower just isn't enough to get the smell of him off of me.

he's all wrapped up into disney movie, magic shit. when i know that he is just some dirty subliminal message, and i'll get sucked in.(but i'll tell myself it's not my fault, because my sub-conscious should be more aware, and i'll pinch myself to make sure i'm sleeping.)

i know that's not right. (anything to keep me asleep)

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charlotte.

by ~create-illusions, Sep 20, 2009, 8:14:39 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.

             (and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)

when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.

           (and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)

charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.

           (because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.

charlotte's first boyfriend knew her as char. to him she was a ray of sunburst that consumed a frail skeletal shell of twisting freckles, and bruises turned brown.

           (because the name charlotte sounded so much worse when pressed through chapped lips.)

and one day, char will be asked what her favorite color is. her fingers will dig into the wet grass, and her hair will glow in the green-blue sky. char will remember charlotte, and the water seeping in through her nostrils and into her lungs. with closed eyelids, charlotte breathes.

             "have you ever really seen the color purple?"

charlotte.by ~create-illusions

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

because pretending to be real, just isn't the same.

love 3 3

~~joy 0 0~~

wow 2 2

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~StuartR Feb 3, 2010

This is a wonderful piece

~create-illusions Feb 20, 2010

~licoricefactory Dec 12, 2009

oh wow. i miss reading your works. the ending was just fantastic.

~create-illusions Dec 13, 2009

~Solaces Oct 4, 2009

oh, fantastic.

~iheldyoucloser Oct 2, 2009

charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.

(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.

i lovelovelove that part.

~create-illusions Oct 2, 2009

*ByLaauraa Sep 29, 2009 Hobbyist Photographer

I really like your style Kalea. I was trying to write something but it's just too hard haha.

~create-illusions Oct 2, 2009

awh thank you so much sweetheart, i just have a lot of hurt in me, it comes out through dreams

don't worry, it'll happen.

!behind-golden-eyes Sep 24, 2009

that was wow

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