rome

i’m not good at objectivity. because sometimes, when the light catches my cheeks just right, i feel the whole world spin on its head. but i’m trying not to get caught up in the first emotion that comes to me. i’m trying to be cool, and calm, and collected, because i’ve heard that’s a good step somewhere along the way to being happy.

so in no particular order, here’s what i remember: nothing and everything at once. a happy girl on the swingset, coming home and crying on the floor. i’ve spent so many years, clutching secrets close to my chest, and feeling their weight. but no matter how hard i try i just can’t let them go. at least, not today.

so for now, i’ll close my eyes, and let you count out all the holes in my jeans. feel soft touches build me up like rome, because no matter how hard i try to hide it i always have been a stack of dominoes.

and that’s the kind of thing i know i’d use to share with no hesitation. because the world is good, and strangers could be trusted. probably. and there was a future out there, waiting for me, just out of reach. but now i am a circuit with no fuse, ready to catch fire at the slightest gesture. but i’m not gonna hurt you. i’m gonna keep my cool if it’s the last thing i do.

here’s what i know: i am the witch, i am her hostage, and the self-entitled prince riding in to save her too. which probably means i’m a regular fucking person, also known as a catastrophic failure, or a constant work in progress.

doesn’t that make your skin crawl? doesn’t it slip under your tongue, or slither down your spine? because it does mine, every time i think about it. but i’m told that sometimes, you just have to face it head on, break in a brave face like a new pair of shoes. and catch myself when i stumble, just like i would catch you.

i’ve heard that’s something happy people do.


Another escapril prompt! I thought this one turned out pretty nicely, but let me know what you think. 🙂

be patient with me, will you?

i fucked it up. didn’t i?

i threw my last chance away. i let arrogance get the best of me. because i’m tired, and messy, and i never mean what i say. because i make mountains from molehills. because i didn’t exactly… give it my all, today.

because today, i ripped myself to shreds for entertainment. since there wasn’t anything else on the menu. i watched tv until 2am. because that’s what normal, happy people do.

and i set my alarm anyway. i woke up feeling like shit. and so i made myself a coffee. and i cried, a little bit. because i think the world is ending. because i still can’t bring myself to admit… that i’m not your poster child. not your hero.

that i’m tired of playing the adult; when i’m the youngest in the room. i’m tired of overcompensating for other people’s mistakes, i’m tired of staying up late. i’m tired of telling them what to do.

and for all the times these words have been twisted from my throat; clawed hands and messed up jokes, i’m so fucking sorry. from every square inch of my tattered, ragdoll body.

i’m sorry i hurt you. i’m sorry i’m awkward, and confused. i’m sorry, because i’m still learning. how to cradle myself like a little fucking baby. and sing myself to sleep, like my mom used to. it just doesn’t come naturally. but i’m a good learner.

so just… be patient with me, will you?

periwinkle blue

roll down the window. so i can feel the summer air whisper sweet nothings against my cheeks; hear the laughing children; smell the red-hot gasoline…

because if you just look right into the sun, until your retinas start burning up, don’t you miss the good old days so desperately, when everything was perfect, and you were young?

when you were miserable, and lonely, and dumb…

so take me back. to a time when the sky shone a gorgeous periwinkle blue, as the leaves pirouetted off golden-brown maple trees. when you nudged my shoulder, and i smiled back at you.

to pink gingham dresses; love letters, and morning dew. a fairy tale kiss that never even happened.

but god, do i miss it…


Hey guys! I’m so sorry about how this post came out before it was actually done, now you know how terrible my rough drafts are? Ack, I’m super embarrassed, basically what happened is I had been working on a story chapter for, like, five hours straight or something ridiculous, and I was way too tired to finish blog posts and have anything good come out of it, which is a problem I really need to deal with, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I scheduled it to come out at 9am on Monday, and got up at 8, but I didn’t finish it in time, walked away from the computer, it came out automatically, I freaked out, scheduled it to come out at four, but at four I was on the phone and completely forgot about it, so it came out again, and now here I am finally fucking editing this properly, and hopefully this coming out on Friday isn’t too much of a let-down. I’m so sorry for the confusion, I hope you like the poem anyway 🙂

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

dizzy

one step closer. just… one step closer, through the nausea and confusion. this is your life. and you’re going to ruin it.

acid raindrops falling to the ground. close your eyes, and cover your mouth.

swallow down the vertigo. just keep walking up, up, up. just keep it up, up, up. and don’t you dare let it drop.

no matter how much i scream, i still can’t make the fire alarm turn off. lightheaded and dizzy, in the smoke pressing in around me. now am i grown up?

because i’ll never get to take this back. and there’s no time to mess up.

24 degrees

the humid air snuggles up close to me. and stays there. and my blood starts to come to a boil as i look into your eyes, because i hate you even more than i hate myself tonight. furious tears, dripping off my chin one. at. a. time.

and you know, they say the skies are rife with disease. say it’s never going back to normal. not completely. and some days, i can’t help but wonder. if this step could be the butterfly that causes the tsunami. if this is going to be the last time you get to see me…

they say i’m withering. like a parched august flower. and you know, maybe it’s time to empty out the vase. rather than just changing the water.

they say i am parched soil after a long, hot wildfire. crumbling under the slightest pressure. 

and the steam seeps into my lungs, air too thick to breathe. and little girl, is this too much for you?

because if this is enough to scare you… then you haven’t seen anything.