Essence of silenceEver so silentI cross the shores of the eternal waves.Lightbeams are the rude intrudersThat enter and leave and betrayMy visionEver so blurredThe image of the Could Have Been remains.I stare at the flickerThat dances and swings and searchesMy bodyEver so stunnedI'm shaking with the violent thought.Darkness beach wants me to leaveSo I can feel and mock and sootheMy soulEver so brokenAn old tune reaches my brain synapses.Waves crushing on the sandSo I have to move - forward or backward.Cold or unknown.
A ThreadWhen the bell had finally rung and I had flown from my seat, I reached the front of the school in what had to have been a record time. I paused for a moment and cleared myself, then slowly opened the doors and stepped out.Not even twenty feet away was a small blue car jam-packed with people.As the window rolled down and his face appeared, I tried not to panic as I realized he expected me to get inside.He called for me and gestured that there was plenty of room.Feeling my hands and legs trembling, I tried not to show the nervousness building up inside.Not even glancing at the other people in the car, I quietly asked where I was supposed to sit. I heard a quiet snicker as he told me there was room on his lap.Feeling my face turn bright red I looked away. I didn't want him to realize how impossible that would be for me. So I started to give an excuse, some reason that it just wouldn't work out today.But even as the words left my lips I hoped he would ask.I wanted to know that h
The LampI threw that lamp away today. The tall, floor lamp with the faux brass finish. A dream-catcher and a cat that loves feathers just so happened to spell out its demise in a violent dissonance of shattered glass, cat yowling, and the pounding of my own heart in my ears. I just find it strange that, of all the times it's fallen in my room before and though it landed on carpet this time, the etched glass bowl chose now to break.It made me remember that day. You know...you remember, don't you? Dad and I had slaved for days painting the walls and putting up that wallpaper mural. It wasn't until after we had finished our task that we realized none of my old bedroom things went with my new, more mature décor. I had grown out of the pastel hearts, and lacey pillows, and teddy-bears. I'd moved on to Italian vistas, and marble pillars, and rich wood. I slept that first night beneath the pink and white striped bed covers that I had used for the last twelve years of my life, silently bemoaning