reflections

“Y’know,” Mia drawls, leaning closer to Willow, “I kissed Kayla last night.”

“Uh huh. And then you woke up.” Her New York accent fills the air, in the spaces between smoke.

“You little bitch-”

“If I’m a bitch,” Willow interrupts, “Then you’re… the bitches’ bitch.” She takes another drag. “Yeet.”

“Fuckin’… lemme finish.” The younger snatches the blunt from Willow and inhales it. “Like for real.”

“… Wait, for real?”

Yes.”

She feels herself crack, smoke seeping into her. Stifling the starlight. “And then what?” It almost sounds casual. Almost, almost, almost, she’s almost okay, almost high, almost drunk, almost in lo-

“She told me…” The silence cracks. “Told me not to do that shit when she’s gotta boyfriend.”

Willow waits.

“We used to fool around no matter who she was with. But with Tyler, she’s serious… never realized I was too- about her- until it was too late.”

The younger nods and pours two shots. They down them together, Mia wrinkling her nose at the taste.

“… She used to taste sweet- like shitty coffee with too much creamer. But this time she was bitter.”

Another shot. Willow’s blurry- mind in a haze, water from her mouth, eyes, skin. She watches a bead of sweat trickle into Mia’s collarbone. Water meets water, but it’s covered with smoke. She can’t see what’s real and what’s an illusion. Everything’s smoke and water, only reflections and shadows.

“Hey… ” Her eyes are half-lidded, her whole body resembling jelly. “You… You can use me however you want. As long as you taste sweet.”

This stabs through Willow’s haze. “Mia, I’ll never use you.”

A laugh. “Didn’t you? You were lonely, I was there, so you used me. Don’t matter what for. Can’t say I minded. But now… Nothing’s sweet.” She drops her blunt on the ground and stomps it out. When she looks at Willow, the starless night fills her eyes. “It’s all just smoke, Will.”

“… And water.”

“What?”

The older girl dares to smile. “Smoke and water, Mia. Reflections.”

A final shot.

“Hm. You can be water.”

“You’re smoke, then?”

“Yeah…” She’s smoke. It’s the closest to nothingness.

Advertisements

glass lake

we were closer to each other in the woods

rulebreakers

rebelling against the setting sun

and the clocks hung on their walls

 

we were never fearless

it hurt but we earned this

crashing marbles rattled in their ears

a shaky understanding

around you

i’m less

 

around you

i’m shaking

 

stomach in knots

 

smiles woven from heartstrings

stick together with tears

 

“please don’t see me”

you won’t like it

 

around you

i’m too quiet

thoughts too loud

 

“please don’t wait”

i’ll take too long

 

i wish i could-

i want to-

i can’t-

i don’t-

understand.

chances

“they seem like the type to use words loosely”

empty hands

empty mouths

blurred keyboards

and graphite lines

the type to throw phrases around and laugh with their whole body

uncaring

the type to misunderstand

lines written in sand

a fate unmoving

steadfast

they seem like the type

to move forward

they seem like they’d ask

not care

they wouldn’t notice what you hide

in words

and second chances

untaken

Ghost (a sonnet)

I would forget your name a thousand times

To drag myself away from ocean waves

I’d leave you there alone in sunshine’s eyes

I’ll never be the one for what you crave

A ghost is all I’ll leave you there to be

To scream of all my horrors, hopes, and dreams

The ones I left you for are lost at sea

I’m stuck inside the city with machines

The curse you left on me is bound to break

It will not last as long as you foresaw

Like me, your words will drown in a blue lake

Like me, your words will burn like dried-out straw

I will forget your face and voice and love

If it will set me freer than a dove

 

~~~

My first post in 2018!! It only took half the month… I’m doing my best ;-; Nonetheless, thank you for 60 followers and I hope you are having a good January thus far. If not, there’s always the next 11 months 🙂 

The Comfort in a Shooting Star

via Daily Prompt: Cozy

The sky is dark and cloudy, making it impossible to see the stars. The ground is white- coated in snow that no longer falls. Everything is still. (An everlasting kind of still. A frozen in time kind of still. A broken watch, whisper-talk, it all stops kind of still.)

She wishes that her brain would stop. Huddled over a tiny heating vent in the corner of her shoe box-sized apartment, shivering under a thin comforter, she prays her thoughts away. The couch only a few feet away from her sits unused. When her room was too cold, the woman moved to the living room and sat down on the heater. At this point, it feels like too much effort to move. She shivers once more and breathes out a sigh. Then she hears footsteps pad down the thin hallway. A short pause.

“Hun?”

She turns to face the voice. Her roommate stands there, tangled blonde locks flowing over strong shoulders. Her sweatpants hang loose and her old T-Shirt is almost a crop top at this point. The woman wears a face of concern, years of being the “mom friend” coming into focus. Striding across the room, she sits down next to the other. “What’s wrong?”

A shrug in response. “I don’t know… just cold.”

“Hm.” Her friend doesn’t know if she can believe her, but decides to go along with it. “Well… come on sweetie, we can share my bed.”

She lets herself be pulled along, soon entering a familiar room. Efficiently, the blonde woman adds her comforter to the pile of blankets on her bed and grabs an extra pillow from her closet.

“Here,” she says, gesturing at the perfectly made bed. “I need some water, but get warm, okay?” After a small nod from her friend, she leaves the room.

The woman pushes back her dark hair, a stark contrast to the younger woman’s blonde, and lets herself curl up under the covers. There is a kind of comfort in the apple scented sheets and flat pillow. It’s an early morning kind of comfort. A melting snow, orange leaves, rain on windows kind of comfort. A first love kind of comfort.

Soft footsteps enter once more as the woman places her half-empty glass on the bedside table. “Good night,” she whispers once comfortably under the blankets.

“Night,” she responds into the dark. But when the younger tangles their legs together, she could swear she sees a shooting star.

27

you are the stars

and the moon

our sparkling distractions

in the night sky

 

you are woven of blue threads

midnight

and turquoise

almost black

and almost white

always shimmering with silver

 

you are loud laughs

echoing in empty rooms

bouncing off walls

that are brighter around you

 

you are every love song

hidden smiles

secret glances

starlight kisses

and youth

 

you are a gentle hum

waves gliding on rocks

and quiet “you’re not alone”

 

you weren’t alone