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Manhattan, with its tall shivery buildings held in embraces of cold stone and silver glass, frozen in repose over the night sky and distant horizons. She loved Manhattan with its last two syllables tripping over each other on her tongue and the small personal cafes with their walls of warmth defrosting her face after a battle with the chill wind. She loved steadfast winter in Manhattan with streetlights shattering sparks over shiny stones embedded in the sidewalk asphalt, shining in rainbows against the stark black of the evening sky. She loved Manhattan in its death and its dark, and loved Manhattan all the more in its life and its light, accepting the city for what it was: a story cherished in the hearts of children, a dream crumpled at the bottom of a desolate, polluted river, a hope with wings spread against the shuttered landscape, a yearning desire to be free. Manhattan was all these things, and more.

Posted By Skäila On 05.17.2013 @ 2:09 am

Her face is nestled against his shoulder; she’s burrowed into the warmth and safety of his embrace. She’s long since stopped sniffling, and her quiet huffs and jerky movements have gradually melted away into soft and quivering breaths. Her long hair is mussed and tangled, itchy against his neck. Her tears have dried on her face, but his shirt remains wet against his skin where she’d cried on him. It’s terribly uncomfortable, holding her: her weight is pressed into him and she’s surprisingly heavy for someone so slender, but he wouldn’t let go of her for the world.

He feels her breath flutter against his cheek and he smiles.

Posted By Skäila On 04.20.2013 @ 4:03 pm

She’s standing at the very edge: eyes focused on the churning water below, the turbulent white-capped waves that tossed and turned as if the ocean were a sleepy child caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare. It would be so easy, she thinks. It would be the easiest thing in the world: to step into that cold embrace, to let yourself sink to the very bottom, to not think. To not feel.

It would be so easy. But she steps away carefully from the edge of the cliff.

Posted By Skäila On 04.20.2013 @ 11:36 am

The end is near, they told her, and that was partly what enabled her to go on. She looked them in the eye and reiterated: “I don’t want to die.” Their reply was simple: “Then don’t let it end.”

Posted By Skäila On 01.13.2013 @ 11:43 am

she loved the smell and the feel and the look of blank paper. she raised her eyes from the sheet of white in front of her and breathed a happy sigh. the sky outside her window panes was foggy, with gray clouds and silver linings and a bright cerulean blue that peeked out from between the swathes of white. her whole world was here: encapsulated in a heart of content, in shifty stormy skies and the anticipation of petrichor and the faded breathless beauty of open air and freedom.

she looked back at that paper, closed her eyes. picked up her pen. she was prepared to write.

Posted By Skäila On 10.18.2012 @ 6:23 pm

“act like civilized human beings, please.” she snapped, and both boys, wearing large grins on their faces, turned to look at her.

“but that’s no fun,” they pouted in unison.

Posted By Skäila On 10.16.2012 @ 5:37 pm

she hesitates- one crucial second gone. her dagger’s diverted, whereas moments ago it would have buried itself deep into his chest. she shakes her head. it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing matters- he’d killed the only one she’d ever loved and now it was an eye for an eye, and her world had been swallowed in ice and she felt nothing, nothing anymore except a cold burning need to see him fall.

no, she decided as she dodged his blows and retreated. death was too good for him.

Posted By Skäila On 10.16.2012 @ 1:02 am

people bury the things they loved most of all, so it can’t hurt them anymore, but as she stares out into the foggy crystal sky she wishes that she hadn’t. so what if remembering hurt even more than silence? at least then the memories that she kept would never fade. at least then she could have, however faint, a recollection of happiness in all its glorious light. she could have fed and lived off of that, rather than remaining in the dank darkness of self-imposed isolation. she’d buried all her emotions and regrets and now, she feels nothing.

Posted By Skäila On 10.15.2012 @ 7:16 pm

do the angels smile when they peer down upon the squalid earth? and feel fortunate that they reside above in heaven? or do they cry raindrops and shed icy water like pearls onto our glossy, innocent existence?

Posted By Skäila On 10.14.2012 @ 12:07 pm

A modicum of apathy filters through this blank space, this empty hollow this memory of fated serpents, twisted, twining, curling in cyclo- hexanes of infinitesimally tiny lives, wrapping and choking and irreversibly binding. and in a single ethereal moment, a paradox is born, rending the universe into pieces and shreds and the backspace button is pressed.

Posted By Skäila On 05.17.2012 @ 4:10 pm

I could be nominated for the world’s biggest coward. I only know that I would never get anywhere if I didn’t act. Yet the opportunity slipped by and I remained there, crouching, afraid, unsure, guilty. I was immobilized, broken, scared out of my wits. Fear and cowardice are not the same thing. It was his sacrifice that made me who I am now. It was him who had given up everything for me, him who had given me something that I would never be able to deserve. “For you, a thousand times over.”

Posted By Skäila On 05.05.2012 @ 2:51 pm

She was like a swan: beautiful and gentle and slender with such consummate grace. And just as unapproachable. Her hair was as white and as pure as a blank piece of paper, yet unused, and her dark eyes shimmered and sparkled mysteriously.

So he was mystified when she hugged him close and whispered under her breath, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Why,” he asked.

She said nothing, just stared at him with the stars in her eyes, stared at him like a little girl who’d reached for the sky and just been told that she would never be able to fly.

Posted By Skäila On 04.21.2012 @ 9:16 am

His hands trembled slightly. He leaned over, fought against his conscience, and finally picked up the diary. It lay limp and fragile and dusty in his hands. A chronicle of someone else’s life: a privacy that he was never supposed to intrude. Yet here he was…

He turned to the first page, whispered the words to himself like a long-forgotten lullaby.

“April 21st, 1973. How can it be so hard?” A deep breath. “All I ever wanted, was to be happy.”

Posted By Skäila On 04.19.2012 @ 9:47 pm

“tell me a lie.” she said shortly, her expressive green eyes begging for understanding, trying to communicate something when even she herself didn’t know what she was trying to say. “a lie?” he said thoughtfully. that small frown of concentration furrowed in his face. she nodded. “i hate you.” finally, he looked up. his eyes were solemn. a small smile broke out on her face. “not bad. try again.” his eyes widened. “what, that wasn’t enough for you?” she shook her head emphatically. “fine.” he said slowly. “uh…you’re ugly? you’re cruel and mean and no one loves you?” “your insults are terrible.” she laughed. her moods were mercurial; her somber tone quickly vanishing in the face of her amusement. “so what are you really trying to say?” he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “i love you. will you marry me?”

Posted By Skäila On 03.31.2012 @ 9:44 pm

who am i kidding? ghosts are not real. they simply float in the corner of my vision, like a rainy day that has lightened into slight sprinkles, until all that is left are the puddles, flowing over the drenched landscape. yet still, it is just a mirage, ascribed by exhaustion and the will of the fates. ghosts and rain: remnants of a storm unbroken, drifting blearily for a second, but in less than a second, before you have time to blink, it is already gone.

Posted By Skäila On 03.31.2012 @ 12:48 am

“she disappeared yesterday, right?” “really? i haven’t heard.” “it was the usual crime.” her voice was hushed, almost as if she was imparting a terrible secret. “she had it, you know? the-” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “well, it’s a shame.” he shook his head in dismay. “the list just keeps getting longer.” “well, what do you expect? she deserved everything she got.” “did she?” he paused. “does anyone ever get what they deserve?” “it doesn’t matter either way. she’s gone now, and that’s the end of it. there’s no point in talking about it.” “she was your best friend, wasn’t she?” “like i said, it doesn’t matter.” she sighed. “she was just one from a litany of souls. one from a list of people that no longer exist.”

Posted By Skäila On 03.28.2012 @ 5:43 pm

“i’d like to catch you like i’d catch a falling star” he mused. she huffed. “i’m not a maiden in distress or the damsel in disguise. i’m a tomboy, and you better get that straight before i become violent.” “i’m sure you’re very violent.” he laughed. she glared. “excuse me?” “what i meant was-” he raised a thin eyebrow. “you could’ve fooled me.” “i can show you how violent i can be.” she crossed her arms. he backed away slightly, his expression amused. “no thanks. but i still think you’re too much of a girly-girl.” “nah,” she shrugged, her green eyes sparkling. “you’re the feminine one. you’ve always been the sissy.” he looked wounded. “as if.” “no,” she sighed finally. “i think i’ll settle for being the catcher, and you can be the one that’s falling.” “but you’re too late.” he said softly, his dark blue eyes on her. “why?” “because,” he grinned. “i’ve already fallen.”

Posted By Skäila On 03.27.2012 @ 6:47 pm

“come on!” she watched as he shouted to the new girl on his arm. he got a different girl every week, and he almost seemed to parade them in front of her as if he was not just content with shoving a knife into her heart; he also had to twist it deeper. this week’s girl was a beauty, her smile dazzling, her fiery hair curling behind her in wisps, as if washed by an invisible wind. she was unguarded, her beauty carved to the hilt, unaware that next week she would just be another one of the people he had used and discarded, left behind like trash littered on a dusty sidewalk.

she knew she shouldn’t care. she knew it didn’t even matter. yet somehow she still felt lonely inside, scarred somehow, as if after he’d left her, her soul had vanished along with him, leaving only a residue of bittersweet memories.

Posted By Skäila On 03.23.2012 @ 8:28 pm

as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west her eyes sparkle and shine but they’re dull inside. as the pawns on the chess board turn into queens she alone never moves; she alone, is a a fixed form, she doesn’t ever change.

Posted By Skäila On 03.22.2012 @ 6:00 am

i enter a room curved as if on the inside of a pastel-colored shaded egg walls painted such a thin robin’s blue the air chokes me and the shadows leaks red pain, the pain of blood like a bump on the inside of my throat rough as it slides down the precipice of grief: this is the room where my baby sister died before she was born the place where my father killed my mother insisting, all the while, that he was only saving her from herself.

Posted By Skäila On 03.16.2012 @ 9:18 pm

The pattern on her cloak was one of stars dark and shimmering and not-quite sheer a melancholy of whirling colors, etched themselves into my memory.

The color of her hair was one of light, a buttery gold of a butterfly’s wing, unfolding in the sky.

the tender leaf of her apple-bright eyes blinked at me once, twice, not-so subtly.

I grinned at her, nodded, extended one hand, clutched her thumb to mine, her palm against my palm, fingers intertwined. her eyes were large and liquid and hollow, her wrists skinny, her stature short and gracile and somehow uncertain. a small figure, a shadow on the edge of my vision, a heart like the baby bird with its broken feathers, one I could have crushed underneath my bare feet.

but instead, I plucked a fallen star from her slender shoulders shook the burnt sugar from her syrup-bronzed tresses folded a fallen leaf from my pocket into hers, and reminded her never to let go.

Posted By Skäila On 03.15.2012 @ 7:14 pm

For the duration of this disease, you will be afflicted with overpowering urges to flinch, shiver, cry, stare hopelessly at the stars or other romantic symbols. You will feel the need to contemplate future possible dates or situations in which the object of your abrupt fascination will somehow interact with you in a meaningful way. For the duration of this disease called love, you will be thoroughly miserable.

Posted By Skäila On 03.14.2012 @ 4:52 pm

they say that those who struggle for every inch of happiness, crawled across every blistering surface of hate to attain their legacy, are the ones that are truly strong. because they have that belief, that conviction, to keep them going. that iron will and perseverance that shutters their eyes like a closed blind to the window of the soul. they possess that which ordinary people lack, that inner fire, that invisible belief in oneself.

Posted By Skäila On 03.12.2012 @ 8:06 pm

printers, manufacturers swallow the skies, the creeks the muddy banks, the forests they take nature and destroy creating plastic people that can never be recycled

Posted By Skäila On 03.11.2012 @ 2:15 pm

he looked down, and it was then that she knew she was dismissed.

Posted By Skäila On 03.09.2012 @ 3:54 pm

she demonstrated what it felt like to burn in front of the class. what it felt like to fall as fast as a shooting star, to shine so brightly for a fleeting moment that you left spots in people’s eyes long after you had fallen. she showed us, what it was like to make that suicide leap- to give up everything you have, without gaining anything that you thought you would get. and in the end, ashes to ashes: she had returned like the rest of us would, to the earth that gave us life in the first place, envying the stars that shone beyond.

Posted By Skäila On 03.07.2012 @ 9:16 pm

i lived in a small town for most of my life. a faded memory swathed in years of simple harmony an uncomplicated life as thin as the string that bound me to it only years of sunshine and meadows, living a life of singular emotions, short and unyielding and gone in a fleeting second, my heart never full enough to the brim with emotions scarcely understood, never had a stream or creek that overflowed, never took that jump off a risky precipice: i only knew that life for what it was, simple and uncluttered and small, and until now i never knew how sad it really was.

Posted By Skäila On 03.04.2012 @ 6:36 pm

rivulets, snaking down your back your arms, hunched by your sides your fists, clenched into the grass a smudge, careless on your cheek and the bright sun, shining above your heart is anguished, empty your expression is dull with yearning your eyes are closed tightly

a single drop of sweat, drips down simple circles appear on the opaque blacktop and you cry, “why wasn’t i ever enough.”

Posted By Skäila On 03.03.2012 @ 4:07 pm

lonely only lantern floating in the dark teardrop made of heaven glinting, guiding, stark

Posted By Skäila On 03.01.2012 @ 5:17 pm

a single crescent shone above a single leaf from a single love but when the shadow finally breaks and daylight pours and dawn is raised a gaping sorrow, punctured in her lie spills stars from the air; the moon from the sky tumbling shining into a pond, her gleaming face lights the heavens beyond.

Posted By Skäila On 02.27.2012 @ 6:34 pm