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:iconmisfitablegrae: More from MisfitableGrae


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Literature by ravenwritingclaw

Writing by TwilightPoetess

All The Poets Come To Life by flummo


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Submitted on
February 22, 2013
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i want to build a skyscraper, seventeen stories high
and fill each floor with a story from the people who never said goodbye.

i.
a middle child, born in 1994,
she always wanted to be loved the most
until she learned how to give a blowjob
in an alley behind Miss China’s Takeaway
at knife point.

ii.
she lost her childhood
to an ocean who always thought it was small
and never stopped pushing its borders.

iii.
he’s not sure how he’s supposed to live without her.
staring at the closed coffin, he loses the ability to want to.

iv.
it’s not fair, she thinks,
that the house creaks when she’s trying to sleep,
but when he leaves, it doesn’t make a sound.

v.
nine months and a small coffin later,
she thinks she likes the name “amber”

vi.
“tomorrow,” he says as she passes him in the hallway—
him from math, her to english. “i’ll tell her tomorrow,”
a thought he had had for the last six years.

vii.
after two years, she’s become adapt at hiding the bruises,
and telling herself this is how daddy shows his love.

viii.
“why was i born wrong?”
“you were born mommy’s perfect little girl.”
“that’s not what i am—not what i want to be,” he said.

ix.
children can be cruel, they say.
children can be fucking sadists, he thinks as he
stares down his mother’s razor.

x.
if she had been a minute faster,
she could have stopped that bottle of pills
from becoming just a bottle.

xi.
when the doctor asks him two years later
if he’s doing fine, he signs,
“I wish you had let me die.”

xii.
a slash to the throat,
a bump to the head.
her mouth open in a scream,
the concrete stained red.

xiii.
the child holds out a hand, her eyes round with wonder
and too many questions in choppy english.
much later, he wishes that instead of telling her
exactly how many mcdonalds per block new york city had,
he had said, “run, run! don’t you hear the bombs coming? run!”

xiv.
the airport feels too silent, filled with
the people left behind.
she takes one last look at the vacant runway
and turns towards the parking lot.

xv.
“what? please stop. stay with me, please,
somebody help us! please, i love you, iloveyou,
i’ve got you, we’re gonna be fine, i lo—”

xvi.
ms powell has stopped sending him the homework.
that’s okay, he guesses. at this point,
even if they find the cure for cancer, it’s too late for him.

xvii.
a boy jumps from a bridge.
if he regrets it when he falls,
there is still nobody around to hear the splash.

i don’t need to hear how i am like them.
i know how i am like them,
we all have dusty photos we hide in our desks.
we all have bloody bones that shine white
from the cracks in our chests.
this poem is dedicated to katie, hadley, mark, stephanie, andrea, alex, mary, cas, will, tori, hunter, dana, john, mili, sam, danny, tyler, and anyone else who can identify with one of these seventeen stories.

and guys, wow. i have no clue where this came from, or why it's so freaking long (i apologize for its length). and that i tried rhyming at least three times.

i want to know though--which story was, well, not your favorite but the one that hurt the most, or that made you think, 'huh,' or that caught your attention or was the best written?
don't ever let me write at midnight ever again. -.-" xD
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:iconveinne:
veinne Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
thirteen and fourteen
urgh
my ribs hurt
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:iconeealithnor:
Eealithnor Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2013
9, 11 and 16. But all the others too. Write more at midnight. Night-time always brings emotions closer to our reach, because in the dark we can hide from everything and anything except from ourselves.
Reply
:iconearthian101:
earthian101 Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2013
WOAH. This is so amazing! I loved every bit of it. All of the stories were the perfect length - they told you what you needed to know, while allowing the reader space to draw their own conclusions, and that's a tricky thing to do with just one story - you managed it with 17 stories - fantastic work - and I really do mean that.

As for my favorite, I liked both 5, 10, and 15 the best :)
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:iconslushyveins:
SlushyVeins Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2013
i run parallel with four
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:iconflummo:
flummo Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2013  Student Writer
Gut-wrenching, this.
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:iconfloatnaway06:
floatnaway06 Featured By Owner Mar 10, 2013  Professional Photographer
thank you simply, and I agree you should write more at midnight :)
Reply
:iconlacewinged-beauty:
Lacewinged-Beauty Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2013   Writer
This was so lovely.
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:iconcamelopardalisinblue:
camelopardalisinblue Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
These were amazing, and far too many resonated.

My only problem with this is working out which favourites folder it belongs in.
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:iconarabesque-o:
arabesque-o Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2013  Student Photographer
i.
iv.
x.
xvii.
and well, honestly all of it. the whole thing was a bruise that didnt stop kicking. so. powerful.
(in a good way).
Reply
:iconmisfitablegrae:
MisfitableGrae Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2013   Writer
aw, that's sweet of you to say! x was one of my "favorites" too. a quick question--if one of these stanzas were to be turned into a whole poem, what stanza would you choose and...why?

i feel like an english teacher sosorry
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