maybe i should abandon this classical music training thing and run away with a trumpet player or a drummer or both. we’ll live in a run-down apartment with only a mattress and a record player that tirelessly plays miles davis LPs. we’ll perform in jazz clubs and drink wine and become nocturnal, we’ll send music to the skies that makes the stars dance.
and dance they will.
listening to bright eyes
in your car,
your acoustic sleeping
in the backseat
until we reached
our destination and
your fingers gently
woke the guitar up
those nights
sitting on graffitied
park benches
we would carve
our initials into
the tired wood
and laugh
because that was
the only impression
we left on that place
but oh, the impression
that place left on us.
another story for emily
Once there was a faerie named Rain. When Rain was a young girl, she lived in the forest with her family, and spent her days making dresses from flower petals and wearing blankets of grass. One day, Rain discovered a flower with colored dust on its petals. She painted some of it on her face and upon looking at her reflection, saw that she was more beautiful than ever before, with a light glowing blush of pink on her face. She quickly went to show her family - and they exiled her, enraged that she and destroyed her natural beauty.Alone, Rain left the forest and flew to a city to start a new life in search of glamour, beauty, and love. She painted her face with makeup she found in abandoned purses owned by girls with bright blonde hair and eyes outlined in black. Rain wanted to look like them, so she followed them to their parties and danced and flaunted and fluttered her wings like they did. At one such party, she thought she saw the twirl of a tiny violet flower petal skirt in on the other side of the room, and, intrigued, she flew over to it. In the skirt was another faerie, Melinda. Melinda looked like Rain’s family from the forest, except her eyes were the color of the sea while Rain and her family all had moss colored eyes. Melinda whispered, “Follow me, Rain, and we can live somewhere where you will be surrounded by your reflection and you will see that you are so beautiful the way you were made.” So they went to the ocean and danced across the waves, and Rain let the face paint and makeup wash away and saw her own beauty reflected by the ocean and Melinda’s sea eyes.
it’s knowing that
the plans we made won’t
see the light of day
and wondering if
plans should ever be
made at all
would it be easier
if i saw these lines as spiderwebs
created from such pure white
the sort of beauty ugly weak bugs
cannot help but be enticed by
so they move closer, enamored, until
an intricate star-like pattern of web
becomes the last thing that
their little eyes see and
crimson bleeds through white
thread; no longer quite so beautiful
