Scratch Online

She is staring at the paper, casually turning the page. Her eyes glance up at the closed door and back at the editorial; the opposite seat is un tucked waiting to be occupied. She taps her fingers in a steady rhythm, falsely predicting the arrival of her girlfriend. “strawberry Italian soda and a Caesar salad.” Called a lady from behind the counter emphasizing on the “A” in soda. She slowly raised her hand, not wanting to get out of her seat in fear someone else would take it or her date would see the empty chair and leave without her…

he wants to stop
but he can’t
he is addicted to it.
he’s “fine” when he’s with
someone
its just.
when they leave
and the door
closes
the feeling of loneliness
seeps through the cracks of the door
reaches up and grabs him
taking over his mind
controlling him
using him
hurting him
breaking him
till nothing is l
e
f
t
but
blood soaked sheets
and
tear stained pillows
and a shaky hand
resting a
bloody blade
on his
bedside table
with a broken heart full of broken promises
and a doctor’s appointment card ripped up on the floor.

That sly little harlot is a drifter, She is a huntress, plucking when she’s young. She slides in skins like a slippery shifter. Her name, a pretty one, to be unsung. The cretin has meddled on the wrong shore, She thinks she will like it, we’ll have her out. Too much longer and she’ll be shown the door. She’s a forger taking too big a bout. She thinks she can steal my love, she is wrong. She is found stealing shirts, food and a buzz. He’s off limits to her. He is my song. He knows and agrees, but I…

hidden. in between those lines no one can see you feel you smell you your alone. Isolated. with no one to talk to to touch to be with. misery is your most common emotion. but sometimes you settle for love for you can see all those who walk past you can touch all those who seem to care and you can smell the ones you long for. yet they still can’t see you. but in the midst of the loneliness. something moves in the shadows behind you, someone you love someone who has broken through the twisted, jagged spires of…

It was nearly the end of class and I was getting distracted from the many bodies in this overcrowded room, but one particular boy struck me as intriguing. So I watched him as he rummaged through his grey and tattered drawstring bag muttering words related to bad breath and something to chew. An orange voodoo doll pinned to the side danced as he shook the bag; his search was in vain so he had to change tactics; he began to empty his bag, pulling items out one by one and ever so carefully as if everything in his bag was…

I miss you That’s all I really need to say. I don’t need to turn it into a simile or a metaphor Because there is no need. I just miss you I don’t want to get all sappy But I probably will I want to let you know that I really miss you Plain and simple I miss your smile and your face I want to miss your eyes But I can’t remember what colour they are I want to miss your laugh But I can’t remember what it sounds like. And I know you miss me too But I…

I knew how I was. I think part of me has always known, yet somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I always stayed the same. I never changed. I wanted to change. I always did and maybe now, I can. Letting my past go is something I’ve always struggled with, as if I had hopes of it one day coming back. Only, the thing is, I was a different person then. I would sit and stare, my face contorted in a mask of judgment as I watched the poor, innocent souls walk by. I would walk among a crowd…

The colours were all grey Like a brand new colouring book Full of interesting things. But plain Lifeless And boring You stepped into my life And put crayon to paper You helped colour in the lines Trying to attain perfection As we got farther into the book The crayon turned into a colouring pencil And we didn’t care if we went out of the lines Because that’s what life was about Colouring outside the lines. We shaded and drew patterns And soon the colouring pencils turned into markers And that’s when it looked tattered When we coloured outside the lines…

I had enough of you, you see, You want a list why, just look and see: You told me what to do. You were telling me whom I should and shouldn’t talk to. And what I can and cannot do. News flash for you honey, your not my mother, I have a mind of my own. Which means I can think for myself like an adult, You guilt-tripped about the things that I bought, the things that made me feel at home. You insulted the one I love. Thats right. LOVE. I told you straight out in the beginning that…

Everywhere you look is engraved with her love story Chipped paint and cracked brick Complexion of ever fading pastels, green trees, and dirty snow Grassy hills with crumbling tomb stones and endless veiws Steep roads and peaked metal roofs ,the curves of her body She is quiet and sweet as she makes love to the mountains that surround her Hiding nothing and laying exposed under a vast star filled sky Smoke from chimneys rises high to the moon as her slient blissful breath She speaks to you without ever saying a word Inviting you into her open welcoming arms and…