serenamithane
things revolve around you in strange ways.
you pull me in with gravity
and i find myself facing the infinity
of your strange galaxies-
closing gaps
finding stars and finding planets
i have always dreamed of space exploration.
He held the tarot card in his hand and pursed his lips. He read the equivalent meaning in his guidebook:
Authority, father-figure, structure, solid foundation.
If reversed: Domination, excessive control, rigidity, inflexibility
This did not answer the question he had in mind. Not in the way he had wanted. He cleared the table with one sweep of his arm. The upside-down card stared back at him with a glint in its eye. His empire would rise again. His people would come to love him. It was only a matter of time.
He snapped his fingers and they took the prophet away. No cards would tell him his rule would not bring glory back to this kingdom. His father had built all this up for him. He would not disappoint.
the darkest places are always
where the stars are brightest-
i remember you saying this.
it is almost as if cities decide
that the lights belong down on
earth - from an airplane, the
view of the urban landscape
feels like you are looking
down at the night sky.
i guess this means our
progress comes at the expense
of forgetting the ones that
always brought us home
in the days we were lost.
one day, if i ever achieve
my dreams, i know it will be
because you guided me
back to where i wanted to
go, when i needed it most.
i learned to chart each and
every path around you,
when the horizons around
me were unfamiliar.
and even if this means
we will go on separate paths
one day, you will never really
fade from the memories of
each time i observe the sunset-
i could never really drown out
your light, even if i was able
to restore mine. i guess this
was why it's accurate, that i
met you from the transition
of insomniac-filled nights
to painted mornings-
because maybe you weren't
the common perception
of what we think are stars-
not all of them appear
in the night time;
and not all of them are
of the same distance,
even if they might
appear to be.
and i am willing to take
on the risk that we
belong on different
timelines - but you will
always be the reminder
throughout my history
of the possibility of
new beginnings.
there was something in the way
you would talk about how
you saw the world - and it was
then that i realized that amid
the darkness around you,
there would always be
something to show that would
be larger than life - beyond
anything i've seen,
and always worth looking
toward. it is true that i can
see the same thing, tucked
away in smaller views, in
brighter places that don't
have to be as cold - but
there is something
irreplaceable, about seeing
it for how it's made to
be appreciated - out
in the world, surrounded
by people who can
share in the experience.
this, i realized - was your
vision. how wonderful
it'll be, for the person
you one day find who
will be the projection
that fills the darkness
for you.
His unkempt hair stuck out in waves, and she stared at him to preserve this image of him in her head. He had woken up a few seconds ago, and his eyes adjusted to the room around them.
"...We really did it."
"Yeah." She ruffled his hair. "We're married."
The number zero is full of infinite potential. You start with nothing, and can fill it with everything. The truth is that this is when you can reach the farthest.
People forget that in the end, everyone is a fool.
I remember you most in
frayed gray trenchcoats
and the way you always
said mysteries don't end
with their solutions.
There were questions
left unanswered
when you took off
unnamed under a fedora
that shaded your eyes
from the reality
that you were
never coming back.
And I took every
single clue there was
to try and map out
the fingerprints
you left all over my memory
and an attempt at
looking for notes
that resembled
your handwriting
because I refused
to believe that
there were mysteries
that weren't made
to be figured out.
Because the only
things I allowed
to be unsolvable
were people
as dysfunctional
as you.
And maybe I was
just unprepared
to face the truth
of how improbable
the evidence left was
because I tried to
prove to myself
that it was impossible
that I couldn't
defy the logic
that came with
your deductions
so effortlessly.
It was difficult to accept
that you were right
when you said
that mysteries
don't always end
with their solutions.
Because I couldn't
find you anywhere-
my eyes could
only assume
to see you
everywhere.
I would like to believe I'm a well-made cake.
But the truth is, I'm still in the making.
Sometimes I realize the flour isn't sifted yet.
Or that I don't really know what baking soda is for.
The oven is outdated by now.
And unfortunately, I don't know how to turn on the gas.
I constantly burn my fingers on too-short matches.
I keep trying to knead out my rough patches.
Without realizing that there is such thing as too much.
I have never been very good at baking.
I keep telling myself I will be a three-tiered piece.
But my layers keep crumbling into themselves.
And I think I may have used salt instead of sugar.
I rely too much on frosting to cover up mistakes.
There are places where the mixture failed.
And I am not a masterpiece ready for a celebration.
The cake did not rise up like it had planned to.
You would think following a recipe would be easy.
But instructions are not always concise.
Life is not always that predictable.
And sometimes you really are just clumsy.
But I am more than measuring cups.
I am not just well-branded ingredients wasted.
I am an effort of three hours and flour patches.
I am a honey-stained apron on a Saturday morning.
I am what children try to make for their mothers as thank you.
I am what the awkward guy tried to make on Valentine's day.
I am what the lonely watch professionals succeed at on motionless days.
I am the holder of wishes as the world makes revolutions.
I am more than just a failed attempt at doing something step-by-step.
So why do you keep saying I'm a lie?
The vines outside my house
slowly start to take over
and trap me inside
but I've long given up
on the idea that
the outside meant
any kind of freedom for me.
And I watch as the vines grow
and the way they can't
stand on their own
and think to myself
that they're lucky
that when people get
their fruit it can at least
be used for celebrations
and they help people
want to be more free-
which is more than what
you can say for me.
It had started with a tiny ticking noise in my head, and from there I don't know how it spread. All I know is that it was driving me crazy. It kept repeating itself, like the sound of a clock. So I ran through my house smashing every last timepiece I could find. I hate it. I kept hearing it and it was reminding me that I was too late.
I was too late.
I didn't come on time.
I should have.
Tick. Tock. Tick;. Tock.
They found out the clock virus was a plague that had started because of a hack in human psyche. Initially harmless, they say, it did have the capacity, however, to drive others to madness depending on their psychological profiles. That was when the dangers started of the ticktock virus started to settle in.
To this day, they have no cure.
And one day, it will bring me to a screeching halt as my mind snaps.
Then they will all be too late.
Too late.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
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writing since 2011 · 64 entries · 63 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Serena showed up.
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