Everyone my age seems to grow
out of their skin marked with yesterday’s splatter on the pavement
from red bicycles and skateboard road rash.
Their grimy, dirt filled fingernails
smooth their new, shiny skin
donned in matte black business suits
red and white striped ties
and shiny pleather shoes.
The kids my age used to have a
thirst for adventure
and tire swings
but it fades into a
lust for the blue-collar temptations of society
and a crisp obedience to a boss
they secretly wish to strangle to death.
The kids my age used to proudly parade
finger painted cardboard sports cars
and pillow forts and Winnie The Pooh window curtains
they hide behind thousand dollar debts
to a supplier of a useless Bachelor’s degree.
It seems as if the kids my age
who used to find beauty in the short trips
to the grocery store or the ice cream shop
can only fixate themselves
on pain and tragedy and hurt and
the spiraling madness of current affairs.
I’ve found tragedy amongst the kids my age
I Don’t Believe In Fairies Anymore - Elizabeth Hsieh
because they’ve all torched their dreams
of fairy-dusted rose petals
and winged creatures fluttering
alongside the dust coated white-turned-gray
windowsills by the sight of sporadic slumber.
We’ve all forgotten.
1. Remember that writing isn’t the metaphorical equivalent to a bandage. Your messy cursive is as empty as the bed you sleep in. You won’t find him within a carefully worded haiku or a brutally honest novel. Mourn the death of your writer’s block.
2.You must learn that his words are not laced with puzzles and apologies. His quickly blurted sentences are not an enigma yearning to be solved or put together. Your good intentions to create art out of something tasteless only widen the chasms within you. Forget it.
3.Don’t dye your hair a color you know he wouldn’t like. Don’t dye your hair a color you know he would like. You’ll only be left with severed ends and regrets.
4.Don’t kiss a stranger in a drunken hour. Don’t hold a man’s hand in the movie theater. Don’t play with atom bombs masked as delicate boys. Don’t dance your fingers across another’s skin in hopes of finding him in their touch. Keep your hands to yourself.
5. Listening to the song he played for you will not somehow make him magically appear with an acoustic guitar and golden vocal chords. He’s already serenading another windowsill in hopes of finding a place to stay the night. It’s not yours.
6. Sleeping in his t-shirt he accidentally left in your car will only increase the ache in your head caused by the sickening aroma of the detergent ingrained in the woven fabrics. You’ll soon find out that the smell of his skin makes you nauseous. Take it off. Burn it. Give it back even though he never asked. But my God, Don’t sleep in it.
7. Darling, life seems a mess because you are trying too hard to organize it perfectly. You’re engulfed in darkness because your eyes only ever crave the light. Beautiful people don’t just happen. Growing razor sharp fangs in the midnight hour will only take you five steps away from the end of the tunnel. The earth is a wonderland for quicksand that is sinking your feet into its grasp, desperately trying to suck you into self-pity and despair. If you thrash your arms about, trying to make it work, my dear, you’ll only be devoured by sorrow and grief. Loosen your grasp on the luggage that weighs you down. Relax your arms. Tread lightly.
7 Ways to Forget - Elizabeth Hsieh (via libbv)
There are ghosts of you in my cursive
and silhouettes in coffee shops
and passing strangers drinking bitterness in porcelain.
Sitting by windows,
free birds sing
and i’m singing still,
even though I’m in a cage you locked me in.
I Sing Louder Than The Birds Outside My Window - Elizabeth Hsieh
hold your weary arms out
to the lighthouse towers
tearing down dreams with sunbeams
rude awakenings and widening words
thats how summer passed
seeing you in the blades of tall grass
and daises and meadows above steep cliffs of jagged boulders
awaiting a lonely pair of hands
before you go
teeter on the edge with me,
darling, my love
dance on the earth quakes
and meet me in the great divide
darling, my love
only time will tell
when thunders will rumble
and we will fumble our quiet words
at earth’s end
before you go
run from the blazing sun
with me, darling, my love
under the blanket of stars and moonlight
nothing ever happens, darling
everything moves like stone
let it go, darling, let it go
and I’ll hold you in brittle bones and splattered sheets
We Both Know You Won’t - Elizabeth Hsieh
before you go
before the sun goes down
but we both know
She understood that the hardest times in life to go through were when you were transitioning from one version of yourself to another.
Sarah Addison Allen, Lost Lake (via elige)
(Source: booksquoteslove, via featherumbrellas)
Thursday with 22,536 notes
Dresses are so nice they’re just tubes of fabric you can throw on with very little effort and when you wear one and people are like “oh wow you dressed up you look really nice” but it’s like
ah yes my disguise is working. you think i cared this morning
Thursday with 70,140 notes
do you ever look around at the big crowds of people around you and realize everyone has a story and memories and family and troubles and achievements and a first kiss and a broken heart but you’ll never know any of it and every human life is really intricate and expansive but oh they’ve walked into a shop and you’ll never see them again and you’ll never know just what they were thinking
(Source: bakrua, via featherumbrellas)
Tuesday with 354,637 notes