Haiku

Moonwatch
Sit beneath the stars
And watch the moon's movement
Maybe you'll learn something

Autumn's Beauty
Leaves falling from trees
Into blue-green backyard ponds
Colors showing winter soon

Springtime Roses
Roses bloom slowly
Beneath budding willow trees
While the last snow melts

Fire
The orange candel
Flame flickers dangerously
Yet still beautiful

Writing
Words flow together
To form phrases of beauty
Stories we enjoy

Friendship
Fade through time
An unavoidable act yet,
We still want it stopped

"Carus," He whispered beside her early one morning.
"Mhmm..." She mumbled from her half awake form beside him.
He brushed his fingers over her hair. "Come, I have a surprise for you."
She burried her head farther into his chest, enjoying the warmpth of his embrace, eyes still closed. She could find no more comfortable place than in his arms.
*********
Blah, I may use it in a story, likies?

***Note: Carus is Latin for beloved***

13 Ways of Looking at Beauty

So I really liked this one, Enjoy.

*******************************************************
13 Ways of Looking at Beauty

I.
A smile across
Some random face
That allows any stranger
To know their happiness

II.
Warmth between
Two young lovers
Visible in their features
When in a tight embrace

III.
Quiet giggles
Of a young child
As a friend searches nearby
But still not close enough

IV.
Trees rustle above
Growing flowers
In the soft summer breeze
Enveloped in silence

V.
Blank paper shouts
To be filled with
Thoughts and art
And a mind races to obey

VI.
A family sits
At the dinner table
Laughing and telling stories
Forgetting the world outside

VII.
Silence fills the room
Just what is needed
As escape from reality
And its stress, work, and people

VIII.
Words pour into poetry
Telling our secret lives
Thoughts and emotions
For all to read

IX.
Old photographs lay
Across the soft floor
Telling stories of years past
Reminding you of each moment

X.
Curl into cotton blankets
Within the warmth of a bed
Or maybe a couch
Head resting upon a feathered pillow

XI.
Makeup colored facts
Of model-like bodies
The stereotype of beauty
Is only skin deep

XII.
The couple lay
Beneath the willow tree
Enjoying their last moments on earth
In one another’s arms

XIII.
Beyond the uneven eyes
And tangled hair
Care and compassion
Lie openly within

*******************************************************
Let me know what you think of it??

Long Goodbyes

I let my head fall against my hand, trying desperately to keep her eyes open. My normally short attention span was even shorter than usual; at the worst point in the year for such a thing to happen: midterm exams. The night before had been long and painful. I glanced quickly around the silent room; my two classmates who had been with me the night before shared the same tired, worn look as I did myself. I locked eyes with the nearer of the two and he smiled feebly. It comforted me, though only slightly. I looked back to her exam and tried to concentrate; though my mind only kept drifting to the night before.
***
I searched though my closet desperately trying to find something to wear. Everything seemed to happy; to bright. Nothing I could find had just the right combination of dress and dark. I knew I could wear what I had worn last time; but the bright white mocked me; laughing silently at the tearstains down my cheeks and the puffiness of my eyes. Finally, after nearly an hour of searching my house, I settled on a pink and black striped sweater I had found in my mother’s closet; shopping tag still attached. I pulled it over my tight black shirt - a perfect fit. I brushed out my long dark red hair and pulled it into a hairclip, letting the bottommost layers hang freely. I pulled on the high black boots I had so often worn in the past and carefully put on a little makeup; although I knew it would end up off; the moment I saw him I would start crying again.
I walked silently into my living room; my dad already ready to leave. I brushed a tear from my eye as I followed him out to the car.
***
The car ride to the funeral home was near silent; only the sound of the radio could be heard. As we pulled into the parking lot, I glanced up the mountain. The skiers were coming down the hill on the man-made snow. I wondered how anyone could be happy on a day like that.
The parking lot was packed with cars; many of them which I recognized. As we walked into the home, I felt a sudden surge of sadness fall upon me; being there, surrounded by crying faces, all united for the same reason, made it suddenly all become too real; he really was gone.
My father and I took seats near the center of the room with all my friends. We were to join the Elks in the ceremony which was being presented before the funeral. People around the room were talking; yet I could not understand the words. I was in a state of emotional shock.
His casket lay at the front of the crowded room, surrounded by flowers and photographs. She recognized one immediately. It was hung in her bedroom as well; from their Antlers installation nearly two years earlier. Time seemed to slow as out Antlers advisor asked us to go line up in the small lobby. The room we had just left began to fall silent as the High Point Harmonizers began to sing a slow, quiet song. I could not understand the words. The Elks Exalted Ruler asked us to line up behind the many Elks who were there. She explained to us what we were going to be doing; we were to line up along the far wall, near the Harmonizes, as the ceremony was presented. Once it was finished we were to add a leaf to the circle upon his chest which the Elks were to start. She walked down the line, handing us each a small fabric leaf, the kind many people add to home decorations. The fabric felt different than usual, somehow softer.
The Harmonizers fell silent, and the line of Elks and Antlers began to slowly move into the room and toward the casket. I saw him as I passed, he looked so fake, his skin almost grey. He looked many years older then he seemed to act; sometimes, it felt like he was one of us; one of the teens he so often helped.
The Exulted Ruler began her speech, I could not bring myself to listen; I knew it would tell everything about him we loved, but not nearly to the extent it was true. There was no way to tell anyone how we felt about him; no one could ever feel it unless you were one of those he affected. I could hear Ryan crying, Jimmy crying, I turned to look at Jimmy, one of the few people always willing to comfort, I couldn’t ask him for it now; he needed it more than I did. The Harmonizers began to sing again, and I felt the tears I has been trying so hard to push back sting against my eyes. The line of people slowly began to move forward, Elks first, then Antlers following behind. As I neared the casket the tears began to fall from my eyes. I stood in front of it and looked silently in at it; the smile which had so often spread across his face now looked stern and rigid. The circle of leaves lay upon his chest, a symbol of an everlasting life and memory of him within each of them. I lay the small leave into the circle as a tear fell upon it, and followed the rest of the line back into the lobby.
Time blurred together; one second everyone was crying together in the lobby, the next we were outside in the cold January winds. One friend of mine was seated along the wall, outcast from everyone else, tears falling from his eyes; tears I had never seen, never expected from him. Two more were wrapped in each others embrace, using each other as a shoulder to cry upon. The three strongest of my friends, all broken into tears. I felt the familiar sting against the back of my eyes again.
***
I tried top bring my focus back to the test, yet it wouldn’t happen. Time was wearing thin as the tears stung again. I pushed them harshly back; he wouldn’t want me to keep crying; he would want me to take the test. I forced my attention back to it, desperately trying not to let him down.
***
Nothing could have made that day any better; surrounded by the strongest friends I have crying over a single loss. I guess we are all human, we all suffer loss. Everyone suffers loss; it turns even the strongest of people weak and wounded. We are all mortal, and through such, we all suffer.

Angel

June 30, 2005
11:57 p.m.
She lay on her bed, curled tightly in the blankets, the cell phone close to her ear. She knew what she had to do, she knew what had to happen to stop the hell which she was living in the last few months.
The voice on the other end of the phone was steady with fear. “Honey, you have to tell me what is going on.”
She knew her silence was killing him, the one person who stood by her, every moment she needed him. She took a deep breath, thinking of how to word things. “The way to get rid of him, it’s…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, not to him, it would kill him, he would break, and she would not be able to complete the task at hand. “You love me right?”
The question startled him yet he answered without hesitation. “I love you more than anyone could ever know. I always will, you know that.” Even at saying those simple sentences, she could hear the tears in his voice.
She did not doubt for a second what he had said. “Hold onto that, I can stop this, and I need your help for it. I need you to hold onto that love. No fear, no tears, no anything but that. Baby, please do that for me.”
“Anything for you.” His voice trembled still. She heard the clock in the next room chime. One.
“No matter what happens,” Two. “Hold onto that.” Three. “Think about only that.” Four. “I or this wont work.” Five. “I love you, o matter what.” Six. “I will always love you.” Seven.
“Baby, what is going on?” Eight.
“I don’t have time to explain.” Nine. “Just promise me you will hold onto that.” Ten.
“I promise.” Eleven. “I love you.”
Twelve.
Silence engulfed them. All that could be heard was his breathing, hers was nonexistent. Fear filled his thoughts for a mere second, before he remembered his promise. “Oh god baby, I love you so much. I really don’t know what I would ever do without you. You are my everything. I could never love anyone this much ever again. I love you…”
He stopped as he heard her coughing. She took a deep breath, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he told her. “I love you, I cant help that. I love you and I always will.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.
July 1, 2005
12:02

Game Day

There is this feeling,
It's floated inside for years.
It will surface,
Take over,
and fall back inside,
laying dormint for a month or two,
then come back,
Forceful as ever.
You play into the game,
That makes it easier.
You only live once,
Make it great,
That's out reason.
I guess it's good,
But bad all the same.
Would you let it be more?
Let it last longer than a month?
I would,
I'd try it,
I want to,
I think it could get somewhere,
Plus,
You only live once...

{I'm bad at titles}

A dimond glitters
Just beyond my reach
Until I finally grasped it
Claiming it mine.

A soft stuffed-animal
I wasn't allowed to cuttle for years
Until I was finally given permission
I hold it every second I can.

A comfortable place
Locked beyond a door for so long

I found the key
I want to lay there forever.

A feeling inside
Bottled until the perfect moment

And it has now been unleashed.

I Love You

It's really old, but definately needs to be revised, any ideas?

{needs title}

She sat silently beside the small bed. The bright white of the room made it seem like such a cheerful place to be. Yet, the small room contained all her greatest fears; needles, IV’s, that irritating beep that had to be there, and the one person she loved more than anything, laying, dieing, in that hospital room. She never wanted to have to sit and watch her love suffer knowing that he would just continue to fade into nothing. He was so near that point at that moment, the steady beep of his heart slowly fading by the day, his breathing becoming more and more shallow. She had sat in that same chair for months, every day, just to spend his last days with him. A tear slid down her face, she knew it could have all been prevented, yet she had kept silent, and let him gain that horrid disease he now lay dieing from. She gently touched a large tattoo on his skin, and thought about how that simple piece of art could start something this horrific.
***
The streets were too crowded, but to the young couple it didn’t matter; they were living their dream: New Year’s Eve in New York City. He wrapped his arms around her back; so much had happened over the last year, so many fights and hardships with money and family; the New Year would be much better, he promised himself that. Their wedding was just months away, and neither of them could be happier. He slipped his hand quickly into his jacket pocket to be sure that the little slip of paper was there. He had drawn it months earlier, even before their engagement; and that night, it was being put permanently with him. The sketched angel, and animated version of his fiancé, was being tattooed on his upper arm. He had found a tattoo parlor open all night, and after the infamous ball drop, they were going there.
“Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…Five…Four…Three…Two…One…Happy New Year!” The crowd rang with the sound of celebration, a welcome to 1990. He pulled her close and kissed her.
***
The crowd began to slowly thin as they made their way toward a dark street. Snow began to lightly fall into the blackness of the alleyway. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder as they walked, slowly nearing the red neon sigh that screamed “Tattoo” into the night. There was a sudden nervous flutter in her stomach, but she kept silent; who wouldn’t be nervous about someone they love having needles stuck into them?
They entered the bedroom-sized shop and she hated what she saw. Unpackaged needles covered a small countertop along the opposite wall, along with open ink bottles and bloody rags. A few chairs were sat near the door, she assumed for people like her, too nervous to get a tattoo, but still willing to come with a friend. A single black chair sat near the counter, and beside it stood a perfect stereotype of a tattoo artist. Barley any of his arms were visible skin, but instead they were multicolor murals that could easily tell a novel.
He showed the artist the drawing, and the artist nodded in response, motioning for him to take a seat in the black chair. He sat and the artist began to search through the piles on the counter. She watched as the pulled a needle from the counter and raised it into the light, making sure the coloring on the end was black, just as her fiancé wanted it. The artist rinsed the needle under water, she assumed to clean it, and began. She sat in the chair nearest the door, the nervous flutter still in her stomach through the entire event.
***
As she sat beside the hospital bed, she thought about that day. She knew now why she had felt those nervous butterflies; the needle had been dirty, and not the typical ‘just some dirt’ dirty. The kind of dirty that held disease.
That day almost three years earlier was what had placed her beside his bed the night. She carefully brought his hand to her lips and softly brushed her lips against the gold band which circled his finger, “Forever” and their wedding date were engraved onto the inner of the band, just as it was on hers. The happiness that should have been their honeymoon had instead been full of tests and doctor’s visits. The forever that they had promised has become less than three years. The steady beep that had become his lifeline was fading faster, farther apart. She began to cry again. It seem to her like that was all she had been doing lately, crying. She wished he could come out of the disease. She wished she could see his green eyes again, hear the soft whisper of his voice again, feel the warmth of this embrace as she fell asleep one last time.
The soft beep of his life faded into nothing. She sat there, beside the body, all that was left of her love, and cried. She vowed that the empty space in her heart left by him would never be filled. She would never even try to replace him. She hoped she would soon die of the same disease that had killed him. The HIV that he had given to her, his had turned so quickly into AIDS, and she hoped that it would soon do the same for her. She hoped she could soon be laying in that bed, waiting to join him in their deaths.

Murder Perfection

Drag your thoughts,
From that silent mind,
And make your paper sing.
Paint the words,
Into your story,
Your memories.
Don’t look back,
Just write.
Tear the silence of a shy paper,
Let it shout.
Let it tell lies,
Add what is unneeded.
Forget to add,
That last bit of description,
And murder the perfection,
For which we all strive.

Say Something Nice for Me

You’re a mistake,
You’re worthless,
Because that’s all your parents tell you.
You’re too skinny,
You’re too fat,
Because he thinks somehow you can be both at once.
You’re just a problem,
You don’t deserve life,
Because even ‘friends’ can’t give you a break.
You just want to fall,
You just want to cry,
Because that’s all you ever hear.
You feel like what they tell you,
You feel like a mistake,
You feel ugly,
You feel like you don’t disserve to live.

All simply because no one could say something nice about you.

Welcome to This World

Suffocating in this asylum
Where every pebble built into this stone structure trembles with fear.
The mirror assigned to watch my every move looks for any excuse to leave.
The familiar fragrance of fresh blood floats into the room.
Another murder within these cold walls.
I wonder how it happened.
Did he do it to himself?
Or was it done, once again, by his peers?
They happen so often that every mirror fears life here.
Because one day,
They may become witness to one.