by Jurnee Ware
Some people say sleeping is the one place you can escape from the hurt,
But I say it's where it hurts the most
Because right before your eyes are no longer useful, and all you hear is suddenly drowned out.
You think your deepest thoughts
About the one thing that makes you happiest.
But in fact, at that moment, that thing makes you the saddest.
It makes you think that another night is going to pass by without him lying next to you.
And as you sleep, you dream of what could be
What should be,
What you want it to be,
And when the world is yet again clear,
And the sun shines through your window.
A tear runs down your face,
Because you realize you're alone
Better yet, lonely,
Surrounded by so many people,
But wishing it was just him.
And the day his hand touches yours,
The day his eyes meet with yours,
And the day his lips sweep yours
Will be the day you can enjoy your sleep,
With his body next to yours.
But for now,
Sleep is just closure.
Sleep is your therapy.
Sleep won't hide your feelings
But embrace them.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Hitchhiker
by Steven Pena
Raindrops lightly tapping
on metal roof and shoulders.
Safe inside the steel frame
and leather seats.
Driving.
Standing silently, arm outstretched,
awaiting.
There, in the pale light of high beams,
Thumb up.
Just trying to get home.
Raindrops lightly tapping
on metal roof and shoulders.
Safe inside the steel frame
and leather seats.
Driving.
Standing silently, arm outstretched,
awaiting.
There, in the pale light of high beams,
Thumb up.
Just trying to get home.
Spring
by Josh Nasiatka
The seasons change
The years go by
With no warning
Other than the change of weather
I sit outside
Lying underneath
The midnight sky
Keeping track of when the moon phases change
And
We all talk about
The man in the moon
But all we see
Is craters
The aroma of night I can smell
The birds stop chriping
The streets are calm
All you hear
Is the occasional owl
All you feel
Is an occasional breeze
Night falls
Day comes
The nocturnal animals
Now hidden
And fast asleep
While we are all awakening
Night is over
On a calm
Spring
Day
The seasons change
The years go by
With no warning
Other than the change of weather
I sit outside
Lying underneath
The midnight sky
Keeping track of when the moon phases change
And
We all talk about
The man in the moon
But all we see
Is craters
The aroma of night I can smell
The birds stop chriping
The streets are calm
All you hear
Is the occasional owl
All you feel
Is an occasional breeze
Night falls
Day comes
The nocturnal animals
Now hidden
And fast asleep
While we are all awakening
Night is over
On a calm
Spring
Day
Eternal
by Steven Pena
The wisteria blooms
in a nirvana field.
October winds, whispering autumn,
smell of bless in a moment of tranquility.
The deep blue skyline,
dotted with tiny explosions of light.
The night is siren ravishing immortality.
In a glimpse, hummingbirds sip
their midnight snack,
from lavender blossoms
This is forever eternal.
The wisteria blooms
in a nirvana field.
October winds, whispering autumn,
smell of bless in a moment of tranquility.
The deep blue skyline,
dotted with tiny explosions of light.
The night is siren ravishing immortality.
In a glimpse, hummingbirds sip
their midnight snack,
from lavender blossoms
This is forever eternal.
Cityscape
by Michaela Savell
Sounds of the city many stories below reverberated in my ears, pulsing slightly with each beep of a horn, each siren's call. Lights were streaming outside my apartment window like fireflies, darting with a hurried fashion and unsure swiftness. My eyes closed, breathing in the putrid scent of exhaust drifting up to the open window. It stung my nostrils, making them flare in with persistence. The sun's light was fading over to the west of the city, tainting the sky with sparks of purple and embellished red.
My hair fell in curled strands down may face, giving it a fey sort of look. My green eyes glinted softly in the summer wind, taking in the city life with a bored tendency. The same lights shown, the same smells arose, and the same musty wind hit my face like sandpaper. I turned my head away in distaste, letting the light from the living room envelop me with glowing fingers. The warmth and security of my little dwelling swirled around my legs, only to be caught up in the massive drapes of crimson grasped in my hand.
I let out a sigh, observing the lights below as they seemed to drift unconsciously without purpose, without life. My mind filled with trickles of thoughts, each one either solved of forgotten in the chaos of my mind. Eyes glimmering, I looked on the world with sorrowful eyes, wondering each fate of the soul driving each small bud of light.
The phone suddenly released me from my thoughts, jerking my head upwards. It was around dinner time; surely it was just a salesperson?
I lunged for it, mumbling into the receiver as I regained my posture. “Hello?”
My other hand remained fluttered over the top of the phone, poised to hang up. However, the voice on the other line was not the confident rumble of the average businessmen. It was the voice of a young woman.
“Who is this?”
I let my hand fall to my side, taken aback. I had never heard so much vulnerability in a human being's voice, let alone from someone I didn't even know.
“I'm Amber. Who is this?”
The voice came out in more of a squeak, cracking with each vowel. “My name is Molly.”
There was silence on both lines. I could hear the woman's breathing in the background, breaking every so often with a sharp gasp. For once, I didn't know what to do. A fragment of my heart was tempted to hang up, to go on with my life. Remembrance of things long past swirled through my mind, reflecting curtly the pain I myself had witnessed, the things I had once done...
I closed my eyes, listening to the woman's breathing. I could hear a sniffle, and a delicate ping as tears fell across the receiver. My heart was beating, reverberating with each thought, each slight movement. Whispers of my job filtered through my veins, forcing my arms to shake uncontrollably.
I jerked. No. I couldn't not think of that job. It was a thing of the past, buried many years under a pile of lies and pain. I had sworn to never go back. No, never. Never again.
Yet, as I felt the woman's delicate heartbeat through the phone line, memories became more vibrant than lost vows. A weak smile was already coming into light across my face. The street sirens, the painful call of the world, was fading in and out until only silence remained. Everything was changing outside; the city lights were burning brightly against the crepuscule falling like a cloak across the high rises, snuffing out the consistency I had once known.
Molly whispered something inaudible into my ear, rippling with sound. It was pale, putrid if you will. They were the words of the hopeless.
True compassion remained vibrant in my face as I just listened to the woman on the other line, her words spilling out like a river. Her voice was filled with desperation, only to be faded out by the underlying emotion of shame, streaking the roof of her mouth. It was like I could see through a tiny window to her heart, watching as each pain and horror beat down on it with blades and axes. There were many spots where soot and ashes coated the surface, while other sections were so shattered that a thin thread of scarlet wrapped it together, desperately holding on.
“Where did I go wrong?” the woman, Molly, suddenly asked.
I breathed in the sweet words, drinking in the past. My job; the thing that I had loved.
“You can't save everyone, Amber,” my coworker said. “But those you do save are the ones that you will forever remember.”
If only those comforting words had not fallen on deaf ears. My vision was becoming blurred as one stray hair fell across my face, the circlet clinging to the moisture. Was it fear that had held me back, all of these years? Was it the regret I had so often felt, clinging to my insides like a leech? It was an emotional barrier that had been forming for years, a defense that I thought would last forever. A light flickered across my vision, igniting my dulled green gaze. It was a firefly, flickering weakly in the dusk.
I could still hear the woman on the other line, expecting me to hang up. However, I instead hung on, not letting the firefly out of my sight. Plans for tonight were forgotten, drifting to the back of my mind. I clenched the glowing bug gently in my hands as I placed into a sealed glass jar; its final enclosure.
Things were meant to be this way. Only in this moment did I realize it.
Sounds of the city many stories below reverberated in my ears, pulsing slightly with each beep of a horn, each siren's call. Lights were streaming outside my apartment window like fireflies, darting with a hurried fashion and unsure swiftness. My eyes closed, breathing in the putrid scent of exhaust drifting up to the open window. It stung my nostrils, making them flare in with persistence. The sun's light was fading over to the west of the city, tainting the sky with sparks of purple and embellished red.
My hair fell in curled strands down may face, giving it a fey sort of look. My green eyes glinted softly in the summer wind, taking in the city life with a bored tendency. The same lights shown, the same smells arose, and the same musty wind hit my face like sandpaper. I turned my head away in distaste, letting the light from the living room envelop me with glowing fingers. The warmth and security of my little dwelling swirled around my legs, only to be caught up in the massive drapes of crimson grasped in my hand.
I let out a sigh, observing the lights below as they seemed to drift unconsciously without purpose, without life. My mind filled with trickles of thoughts, each one either solved of forgotten in the chaos of my mind. Eyes glimmering, I looked on the world with sorrowful eyes, wondering each fate of the soul driving each small bud of light.
The phone suddenly released me from my thoughts, jerking my head upwards. It was around dinner time; surely it was just a salesperson?
I lunged for it, mumbling into the receiver as I regained my posture. “Hello?”
My other hand remained fluttered over the top of the phone, poised to hang up. However, the voice on the other line was not the confident rumble of the average businessmen. It was the voice of a young woman.
“Who is this?”
I let my hand fall to my side, taken aback. I had never heard so much vulnerability in a human being's voice, let alone from someone I didn't even know.
“I'm Amber. Who is this?”
The voice came out in more of a squeak, cracking with each vowel. “My name is Molly.”
There was silence on both lines. I could hear the woman's breathing in the background, breaking every so often with a sharp gasp. For once, I didn't know what to do. A fragment of my heart was tempted to hang up, to go on with my life. Remembrance of things long past swirled through my mind, reflecting curtly the pain I myself had witnessed, the things I had once done...
I closed my eyes, listening to the woman's breathing. I could hear a sniffle, and a delicate ping as tears fell across the receiver. My heart was beating, reverberating with each thought, each slight movement. Whispers of my job filtered through my veins, forcing my arms to shake uncontrollably.
I jerked. No. I couldn't not think of that job. It was a thing of the past, buried many years under a pile of lies and pain. I had sworn to never go back. No, never. Never again.
Yet, as I felt the woman's delicate heartbeat through the phone line, memories became more vibrant than lost vows. A weak smile was already coming into light across my face. The street sirens, the painful call of the world, was fading in and out until only silence remained. Everything was changing outside; the city lights were burning brightly against the crepuscule falling like a cloak across the high rises, snuffing out the consistency I had once known.
Molly whispered something inaudible into my ear, rippling with sound. It was pale, putrid if you will. They were the words of the hopeless.
True compassion remained vibrant in my face as I just listened to the woman on the other line, her words spilling out like a river. Her voice was filled with desperation, only to be faded out by the underlying emotion of shame, streaking the roof of her mouth. It was like I could see through a tiny window to her heart, watching as each pain and horror beat down on it with blades and axes. There were many spots where soot and ashes coated the surface, while other sections were so shattered that a thin thread of scarlet wrapped it together, desperately holding on.
“Where did I go wrong?” the woman, Molly, suddenly asked.
I breathed in the sweet words, drinking in the past. My job; the thing that I had loved.
“You can't save everyone, Amber,” my coworker said. “But those you do save are the ones that you will forever remember.”
If only those comforting words had not fallen on deaf ears. My vision was becoming blurred as one stray hair fell across my face, the circlet clinging to the moisture. Was it fear that had held me back, all of these years? Was it the regret I had so often felt, clinging to my insides like a leech? It was an emotional barrier that had been forming for years, a defense that I thought would last forever. A light flickered across my vision, igniting my dulled green gaze. It was a firefly, flickering weakly in the dusk.
I could still hear the woman on the other line, expecting me to hang up. However, I instead hung on, not letting the firefly out of my sight. Plans for tonight were forgotten, drifting to the back of my mind. I clenched the glowing bug gently in my hands as I placed into a sealed glass jar; its final enclosure.
Things were meant to be this way. Only in this moment did I realize it.
Things are Meant to Change
by Michaela Savell
By the light of the waning moon did darkness fall. It rose and fell, turning any other light into shadow. The snow falling did not make up for the hatred in the darkened sky, but instead accepted its presence.
Yet the darkness was not a winter night at all, but the venomous stare of a young girl. Her golden hair reflected the sun, but her eyes showed her true character. She fixated her eyes on another classmate, one slouching in her seat in the corner of the room. She was singing softly to herself, nervously fiddling with a perfectly straight strand of black hair. golden hair clashed with black as the singing girl suddenly looked up, panic-stricken.
Her enemy was staring, her eyes cold with moonlight that did not shine on this bright autumn morn.
The black-haired girl bowed her head. Amanda.
Amanda was whispering something, a small sentence that made her counterpart giggle softly. Black-haired girl bowed her head, sinking even deeper into her seat. It was something about her. It had to be.
It always was, as it seemed. No one there to stand up for her. Just the notes and melodies spinning in head kept her company, giving her plain stare a spark of substance. Whether that was the cause for Amanda's jealousy or not did not matter. She was the innocent one, prayed upon by the evil one.
But who was the evil one in this battle?
For the third-grader, it did not matter. Just the hate that radiated from Amanda did.
Why? The black-haired girl wondered. Why me? Yet there was no true answer. But why couldn't the simple questions answer the seemingly simple situation?
The teacher was speaking, scolding someone for not paying attention. Amanda slumped a little, her facade broken for an instant. But it did not matter; her sadness mattered more.
But things are meant to change.
**
Elementary school faded. Middle school was a passing cloud. High school came with the dawn.
Nothing had changed.
The black-haired girl had her license, and was driving down the highway. A golden-haired girl in tattered clothes was on the side of the road, pleading for some act of kindness. Songs were playing on the radio, written by the black-haired girl herself. She was singing softly, her eyes on the road. She was not even paying attention to the side of the road, but was looking the other way.
Yet, by some coincidence, the black-haired girl turned. The golden-haired girl was wearing a sweatshirt with holes. It was nighttime, the time where darkness fell. In the light of the waning moon did the black-haired girl catch the tears on the other's face, drying with what looked to be fallen moonlight.
The darkness of night fell across the headlights of the car as the light became momentarily shattered.
Snow was falling around the golden-haired girl, yet its presence was only acknowledged. Her eyes were strained with hatred and sorrow.
It was the venomous stare of a young girl, her heart shattered beyond repair.
The black-haired girl stopped singing. The golden-haired girl stopped crying and shouting out in panic.
Both stared.
The black-haired girl bowed her head before turning away. Amanda.
Amanda was whispering something, a small sentence that could not be heard in howling of the wind or encouraged by a counterpart. Black-haired girl just stared again, forcing her eyes on Amanda.
More than anything, she wanted to drive away and leave the golden-haired girl there. This girl had to pay for all the teasing that had been uttered on Amanda's lips. She had to pay for the pain she had caused her, the black-haired girl.
Black-haired girl narrowed her eyes. Amanda had to be whispering something about her. Whether it was jealousy or not, she was not quite sure.
The songs black-haired girl had written were still playing in the background. If that were still the spark of Amanda's jealousy, it did not matter. Black-haired girl was the innocent one, prayed upon the evil one.
She turned on the ignition again, her foot ready to press onto the gas pedal.
But who was the evil one in this battle?
For the high-schooler, it did not matter. The sorrow the radiated from Amanda did.
She slammed my foot on the brakes. Why? The black-haired girl wondered. Why me? Yet there was no true answer. But why couldn't the simple questions answer the seemingly simple situation?
The voice within the black-haired girl was speaking, scolding her for not paying attention to the truth.
Amanda blinked, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She revealed her facade for an instant as her lips broke into a weak smile. The black-haired girl closed her eyes to hide her guilt. Her completely broken facade did matter; Amanda's pain mattered more at this time.
“Get in the car. We need to find you a place to stay,” the black-haired girl said.
Amanda shivered, her eyes glinting. If it were due to remembrance of the past or thankfulness, black-haired girl was not sure.
Her song hit its climax on the radio.
“You can use the blanket back there; you look cold.”
Amanda only nodded. Black-haired girl smiled.
Never in her life did the black-haired girl imagine her showing kindness towards her enemy.
But things are meant to change.
By the light of the waning moon did darkness fall. It rose and fell, turning any other light into shadow. The snow falling did not make up for the hatred in the darkened sky, but instead accepted its presence.
Yet the darkness was not a winter night at all, but the venomous stare of a young girl. Her golden hair reflected the sun, but her eyes showed her true character. She fixated her eyes on another classmate, one slouching in her seat in the corner of the room. She was singing softly to herself, nervously fiddling with a perfectly straight strand of black hair. golden hair clashed with black as the singing girl suddenly looked up, panic-stricken.
Her enemy was staring, her eyes cold with moonlight that did not shine on this bright autumn morn.
The black-haired girl bowed her head. Amanda.
Amanda was whispering something, a small sentence that made her counterpart giggle softly. Black-haired girl bowed her head, sinking even deeper into her seat. It was something about her. It had to be.
It always was, as it seemed. No one there to stand up for her. Just the notes and melodies spinning in head kept her company, giving her plain stare a spark of substance. Whether that was the cause for Amanda's jealousy or not did not matter. She was the innocent one, prayed upon by the evil one.
But who was the evil one in this battle?
For the third-grader, it did not matter. Just the hate that radiated from Amanda did.
Why? The black-haired girl wondered. Why me? Yet there was no true answer. But why couldn't the simple questions answer the seemingly simple situation?
The teacher was speaking, scolding someone for not paying attention. Amanda slumped a little, her facade broken for an instant. But it did not matter; her sadness mattered more.
But things are meant to change.
**
Elementary school faded. Middle school was a passing cloud. High school came with the dawn.
Nothing had changed.
The black-haired girl had her license, and was driving down the highway. A golden-haired girl in tattered clothes was on the side of the road, pleading for some act of kindness. Songs were playing on the radio, written by the black-haired girl herself. She was singing softly, her eyes on the road. She was not even paying attention to the side of the road, but was looking the other way.
Yet, by some coincidence, the black-haired girl turned. The golden-haired girl was wearing a sweatshirt with holes. It was nighttime, the time where darkness fell. In the light of the waning moon did the black-haired girl catch the tears on the other's face, drying with what looked to be fallen moonlight.
The darkness of night fell across the headlights of the car as the light became momentarily shattered.
Snow was falling around the golden-haired girl, yet its presence was only acknowledged. Her eyes were strained with hatred and sorrow.
It was the venomous stare of a young girl, her heart shattered beyond repair.
The black-haired girl stopped singing. The golden-haired girl stopped crying and shouting out in panic.
Both stared.
The black-haired girl bowed her head before turning away. Amanda.
Amanda was whispering something, a small sentence that could not be heard in howling of the wind or encouraged by a counterpart. Black-haired girl just stared again, forcing her eyes on Amanda.
More than anything, she wanted to drive away and leave the golden-haired girl there. This girl had to pay for all the teasing that had been uttered on Amanda's lips. She had to pay for the pain she had caused her, the black-haired girl.
Black-haired girl narrowed her eyes. Amanda had to be whispering something about her. Whether it was jealousy or not, she was not quite sure.
The songs black-haired girl had written were still playing in the background. If that were still the spark of Amanda's jealousy, it did not matter. Black-haired girl was the innocent one, prayed upon the evil one.
She turned on the ignition again, her foot ready to press onto the gas pedal.
But who was the evil one in this battle?
For the high-schooler, it did not matter. The sorrow the radiated from Amanda did.
She slammed my foot on the brakes. Why? The black-haired girl wondered. Why me? Yet there was no true answer. But why couldn't the simple questions answer the seemingly simple situation?
The voice within the black-haired girl was speaking, scolding her for not paying attention to the truth.
Amanda blinked, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She revealed her facade for an instant as her lips broke into a weak smile. The black-haired girl closed her eyes to hide her guilt. Her completely broken facade did matter; Amanda's pain mattered more at this time.
“Get in the car. We need to find you a place to stay,” the black-haired girl said.
Amanda shivered, her eyes glinting. If it were due to remembrance of the past or thankfulness, black-haired girl was not sure.
Her song hit its climax on the radio.
“You can use the blanket back there; you look cold.”
Amanda only nodded. Black-haired girl smiled.
Never in her life did the black-haired girl imagine her showing kindness towards her enemy.
But things are meant to change.
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