Posted in fragments, life, Poems, story, thoughts

oblivious ( i gave you…)

” I think I just might hate you for peeling away everything I thought I knew –but — but how would I know, after all, I live in deceit.”

He stands, stretching his legs. Oblivious.Goes on another day. Oblivious.There is always work to be done and dreams to be caught.

There is always the sweet kiss of oblivion

against your ruined skin.

I think I just might  love you

for stripping away everything I thought was there to protect me from going after the power of flesh.

And was this just another game for me

and another life lesson for you.

I am always wishing you all the best

and letting you hold your hand to my throat

while I cry and try to help you all the more.

Maybe I am better off admitting that I was never here to heal you

for how can I heal you when all I do is hurt?

Why am I always chasing after people who only spit in my face and tatter my skirt?

I gave you my words.

I gave you my mind.

I gave you my heart.

and after all of that

you left

oblivious

that I had also given you

the only thing I cannot regret giving you.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, Poems, story, thoughts

The fallen and the sullen.

He says, “Trust itself is gangrene.”

I watch him cry, tucking his fingers within his palms, clenching, releasing, uncurling, repeating—Being. I want to reach out, brush aside his downpour but my joints are clogged and my heart is heavy. I blink. Then I force myself to breathe. Still. Still my parched lips will not dare to speak.

He continues,” I let her corrode everything I was,” and angrily in midst my storm, I want to scream at him, “You are corroding me now, you hypocrite.” I remain silent. His voice like acid against my skin. I let him empty himself to me.

“You are such a good friend.” He says, “friend…friend,” a dagger to me. I blink. I force myself to smile lightly, reach out, wrap my arms around him but still my lips they will not part.

“Everything she told me, I let myself think that was what I really was–” He pauses, “–am.” He pauses again, “but I’m not and it took you to show me that. I think that is why I met you, You were sent to heal me, You’re—You are an angel.”

I curl in rage, wanting to lunge at him. Kiss him. Wrap my hands around his neck and hurt him. Conflicted: I remain silent.

“You just somehow understand. I’ve never had that before, you know. I have always felt so belittled—insignificant, like a speck in everyone’s eyes. You taught me I am spectacular. You, just so gentle and non-judgmental. You’re an angel.”

I boil, instinctively placing two fingers against my wrists, nervously wondering if he can see my fury. Racing, I surge to myself, “You know nothing of me. Can’t you see the wickedness in my eyes? Can’t yo see I am pain?” He can’t see a thing, red-rimmed eyes full of release. I force myself to stare into them but all I see is my own grief; And my lacerated lips bitten bare, they will not speak.

Dawn sounds of death,

Spring smells of decay.

He speaks till dewdrops descend. We sit together, the fallen and the sullen drowning in the deafening horizon of being.

He stands, stretching his legs. He holds out his hand to pull me up, a morphing soul peeling apart at the edges.

“So this is goodbye.” He says. He leans in, kisses my cheek, Pulls away Walks away. I stand staring at his back, receding, falling from view, until he vanishes.

-Eva M.M.

Thank you my lovely ink angels as always for reading and sharing your thoughts and feedback with me in the comments!

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in story, thoughts, Uncategorized

Brianna ( Part 3)

Brianna ( Part 1)

Continued from Brianna ( Part 2)

Back to school that year did not feel the same. There was no joy or excitement at finding new ways to irritate my teachers.There was only a constant pounding against the back of my mind and a chill around my heart.I must have stood in front of my locker for twenty minutes before I heard footsteps approaching.

” You alright, Brianna?” It was the principal doing his social duty.” I know our loss of Mr.Jones has been really hard on you.We lost a great man. Take it easy and if you need anything let us know.” He said it like he cared ; like he hadn’t wanted to expel Zack all along; like his life was not easier with Zack gone.Out loss, it was my loss ,not his!Mr.Jones,Zack hated to me referred to by his last name. Before I could stop myself I blurted out angrily,

“Don’t pretend to give a fuck about him. You never did and you never will so why don’t you leave us both alone.” I turned to walk away to class, not even knowing where class was: I had not even bothered to look at my schedule yet.

” Brianna, we do care. I understand the pain you are feeling. I will let you attitude slide for now but in the future remember we all hurt but we don’t have to hurt all because of it.“He left me to stare back at my locker for another twenty minutes, even after the bell rang and class began and notes were passed about who kissed who. I just stood –staring–and wondered how I would survive without Zack, his free steps, his long legs stretching out before him as he strode down the hallway and arm around me possessively.It was not till half way through American history that I looked at my schedule, grabbed the first notebook I saw and groggily edged into class.Mr.Bunter, in his monotone voice ,squawked , ” Pass!” When I nodded no, feeling the unsympathetic , gossip mouth  eyes boring holes in me, he said, ” You need a pass next time BriANNA,” over annunciating the Anna part as if he was just learning to speak English.

Time passes even in the reflections of times past. When the bell rang, I shot out the door before he  could pull me aside and ask me “how I was handling things.”The truth was I was  very uneasy around those adults who yelled at Zack for playfully swatting my butt in the hallways and now acted as if I had been united to him in holy matrimony for years. I grew angry when people would pop up chanting the social chant of , “I am sorry for your loss.”Though I had gotten angry at the principal for referring the Zack as our loss , I now realised that was closer to the truth.Yet  he was not our loss or my loss; Zack was the loss of the entire world and nobody seemed to grasp the genius–the intelligence–the promise of freedom in those green eyes.Nobody could see beauty when it was strolling in front of them with mud encrusted boots and a leather jacket.How blind can you all be?  He was– He was– but I could not finish that sentence , even to myself. So ” He was–“, hung silently in the air, like earth in space–

suspended

— as I ran to the bathroom and wept.I did not stop, even when Samantha walked into reapply her face and glared at me  whispering ” Why are you dressing so covered now?” I did not say anything. I did not stop crying. I just let me sorrow soak my clothes then I picked myself up and walked home.

To be continued…

Thanks as always for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments. I have a particular question for you guys today. In the writing above I used this line ” remember we all hurt but we don’t have to hurt all because of it.”, givean the contexts and the feel of the story as a whole , do you think it is best as is or do you think this other version that I also wrote out is better: ” remember we all hurt but we don’t have to hurt.” OR  this third versionremember we all hurt but we don’t have to hurt others.” To be honest, I actually prefer the second one because it is saying that we all hurt but we don’t have to and also at the same time saying that we don’t have to hurt as in we do not have to hurt others. Yet, I ended up choosing the first because I felt it would be more readily understood. What are your thoughts? Thanks for letting me know.

-Wishing the brightest of day,Eva

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in story, Uncategorized

Brianna ( Part 1)

I have not ,until now, shared with you any stories I have written just thoughts, reviews, poems and other forms of writing. The other day though this all began to unwind and I was thinking about typing it up to keep on a flash drive instead of losing it in the abyss of papers I have of stories told. Instead I thought I would take a bold leap of faith and share it with you in sections until it was done and get some feedback on a very new style of writing for me to be showing you. So I really do hope that after reading each section you will leave a little comment for me  about how you like it and how you think it compares to some of my more poetic works. Also, a quick note on naming my stories. I have never been good at naming them until I am done and I reread and know what is before me. With this story in particular I did not really have a name for it but it is a story of somebody I have known in my mind for a really long time, Brianna or Bree. I hope you get to know her as well as I have. Thank you and enjoy.

 ” Why is your hair purple?” He asked as if it was the simplest of questions to have traversed the human mind in all of history.I laughed, ” Because hair dye exists and I was feeling rebellious.”  He laughed back , ” You’re always rebellious. That is why I love you.     ” I love the way your nose twitches when you talk , I thought , sinking further into his arms.   ” Well lucky for you I don’t plan on following the rules anytime soon.”                           ” Not even if it means getting a scholarship to college. I mean, think about it Ree, your behavior– don’t you think it might come back to haunt you ?”                    ” Most definitely,but I don’t mind being haunted as long as the ghosts don’t pray. I never liked the mumblings of prayer-kinds of eerie you, you know.” he brushed aside a lock of my lavender hair.                                                                                                          ” I don’t know Ree, it is kind of comforting to me. Isn’t that kind of the point. To be comfortable?”                                                                                                                                                ” Yeah, for Them ,” I emphasized the them just enough to make it clear I wanted nothing to do with religion, ” but people who always want to be comfortable make me severely uncomfortable.”                                                                                                                          ” Oh Ree–, ” he sighed ” sometimes I am not sure who you even are.                              “Me either.” I mumbled as if in prayer.

Tornado watching from an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere is only a good idea if you are on a date with your boyfriend and sporting lavender hair.I suppose we should have been more worries about the twister pirouetting towards us.It’s odd how we could be so calm when we were minutes away from being sucked up and dismembered by the wind.Yet, Zack had a motorcycle and we had this theory that nothing could get us if we got on that motorcycle and sped away.We climbed down and hopped on just as I saw darkness like never before  reach out to grab me. Funny, how it was only then that I couldn’t hear. The wind sounded so shrill like all I had ever wanted being vacuumed out of the atmosphere. It was only seconds or at least it seemed like the compression of who I was only felt like seconds until I slammed into something and woke up three weeks later in the hospital.” Zack’s dead, ” the first words out of my mouth. It was strange how it took me a day to even remember how I came to be in that situation yet knew before I was even told that Zack was dead.                                                                                                                                            ” It’s spinning.” I said like a little girl pointing out a pony. Then I collapsed and choked on my tears, the heart rate monitor beeping in between my feverish gasps.                                      ” It is going to be okay honey.”My mother’s voice lying to me somehow made it all hurt more.                                                                                                                                                                      ” It’s my fault– it was my idea– storms,” is all I said before I fell asleep for another whole week, in which I dreamt dreams of Zack riding away from me on his motorcycle: leather and cologne.

…. To be continued…

-Wishing you the brightest of days,Eva

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”