Secret Garden

"You're fucking alone,"
This I knew
Because I had a love
Protected by boundaries

But it grew spidery vines
Rattled against the walls
And I lost it

So I continued on
Playing coy and calm

He said smart things
He found a sweet spot
He called me pretty...

So my shirt dipped down
My face flushed
My skin taut

I felt used
Pressured
But a lady
Never fails to please

I let down my guard
Left the gate ajar
And I lost myself

Mentiroso

You were alone now
She smiled
She blushed
You kissed her
Softly at first

Your hand catching
In the delicate curls
Of her locks
She responded with
her tongue

It was familiar
but deliciously different

This is exactly
What you needed
No complications
Just convienence
It was exactly
What she wanted
Your lips, your lies

Disfrazada

Shouting salty swears
Being bitter and bratty
A farce forced by frequent fear
Silly girl just wants to fall deep in love
Lust and longing lingers
Idly idealizing ignorance
All the sugar, sex, sin
Won't satisfy her Jane Austen heart
Empty but eagerly expecting
Requited returns, really
Moments and meanings
Over-analyzed, organized
And on the surface, a stupid smirk

Indigenous

I thought I knew perfection
I was happy and deluded
I settled for "Okay," when
I really needed "Yes, darling."
Intellectual and sexual.
I was captivated, I was done for
He fed me all the fantasies
I kept for myself
He fed me the future
I secretly knew I'd never see
I fell; told myself I was fine
He decided it was all too much
I fucked up, but where exactly?
He said no, not you, "It's me,"
I just wanted to give all my love
All over again to a man,
Not a boy

Boy, am I lonely...

Inquisition

(Written in late 2010, early 2011)

You're my muse.

I can only write when I've crawled into my hole, when I'm hiding my tears from the world. I can only write when I'm twisted and torn.

You do that to me.

Do you know sweetie, just how much you meant to me? The earth, the sky, the moon, I didn't care for.

But you... it was only ever you.

Do you know how many tears I spilled over you? A million and a half times forever.

All yours.

But it's been so long... and I'm still writing of the anguish you put me through. You won, but you didn't ever claim your prize. Is that what the game was all along? Conquer me only to leave?

L'espoir désespéré

(Not clear when I wrote this. More than likely late 2010 or early 2011.)

Maybe it's because I'm still afraid of letting you in. Maybe I think that if you see the dark, you'll realize you've made a mistake. Maybe I'm just scared that you'll turn and run. I'm scared that you'll leave me in your wake, drowning in deep blue sorrows.

It wasn't always like this. I had crazy dreams once. I thought that fairy tales could happen. But then I met a boy and I told him all of my heart's desires. We built a world just for us to live in. I felt at home with him.

One day, I opened my mouth, uttered three deathly honest words, "I love you." He held his breath... I haven't heard from him since.

Aventurera

I wasn't always this way... I wasn't exactly a nun either. Maybe I just kept it quiet. My sexual energy was something just for me and for no one else to know... And then I met him. Our desires intermingled but we waited. I didn't want to give myself away before I was ready... before I was in love.

Even still, I had never really discussed all my sexual wants (needs, even) with anyone, but opened up with him... And now it's as if I can't keep it to myself anymore. I'm dying to share that side of me, to let it run rampant...

Is that what happens when you give your virginity away? You suddenly become a completely sexual being and are unable to extinguish that desire without having sex? You become branded? Unpure... deviant... or maybe I'm just so in need of affection, and sex is the ultimate loving act, therefore I crave that closeness. I crave that passion. I'm probably just kidding myself and am secretly a slut.

Prophète

I should have known.

I was threatened by her the moment I met her. The moment I saw her adorable, unassuming smile every hair on my body tugged at the follicle. She was cute. Really cute. Petite. Kind. Geeky.

She looked like the least complicated girl on earth... like she just wanted to give love and table all the drama. She looked... lovely.

On the other hand, I am not lovely in the slightest... or cute for that matter. I'm huge and clumsy... like a cow with vertigo. Not even, cows are still cute.

I'm not enough and too much all at once. I hate it to no end. My insecurity feeds upon every single negative thought.

Glancing at him, chewing on a chapped bottom lip, I only hoped that he wasn't in love with someone else.

Addict

She stood there, eyes starting to brim with her palm out. The torn condom wrapper sat there, unaware of the firestorm I just knew was about to start. What the hell did it care anyway? It already fufilled it's destiny. Fucking wrapper. It's the tell-tale heart, beating madly to the pulse of the vein in my fiancee's forehead. Though, it's not really the wrapper's fault. I should have just thrown it away NOT at home. Suddenly I realized I had spaced out while personifying the trash extended towards my face. Guilt and regret washed over me momentarily before being replaced with dread again.

"What-", she started.

"I..."

She looked away and  swallowed with much effort like she'd just ingested a golfball. Lowering her hand, averting her gaze she began again,

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I... I'm horrible. Baby... I..."

Her hands twisted into fists and I flinched as she raised them to her mouth,

"I knew it all along."

"I'm sorry. Baby, you gotta-"

"I always knew you were a sex addict."

I blinked. What. What just. Sex addict?

She started towards me, finally crying and struggling to talk through her small sobs,
"I just want you to know that I love you, and we're going to get you help. Okay, honey?"

She wrapped her arms around my middle and before I knew what was happening I squeaked in reply,
"It's just been so hard."

Was I really saying these words? God, I truly am dispicable. How the fuck did she diagnose me as a sex addict? Should I tell her it was just the one time? Just the one girl? Wait a minute... maybe this is a trap...

She pulled away and looked up at me with teary, sincere eyes, "We have an appointment tomorrow with a therapist. My parents tell me that she's great."

Definitely a trap! Wait, did she just admit that one of her parents is a sex addict? I realized my face was wet too and I wondered where those tears were all stored up.

"Okay, baby. I can't believe you understand."

"Of course I understand," She said with a kiss on the cheek.

I. Am. Horrible.

(And that's all I have for now!)

~C.M. xx

In the sun

It's been like a million years since I've posted. I couldn't even remember the last thing I wrote here. I had to go back and read it. Anyway... How've you been? How are the kids? Y'mind if I get come ice cream? Okay, cool... Is this the drawer you keep your spoons in?

Sorry, I'm hungry. I don't even want ice cream I just want chips and salsa. Speaking of which, remember when I said I wanted to lose 40 pounds? Well, I was doing okay, counting calories, weighing myself daily and shit and then, well I got a job so that's all gone out the window for now. I've no idea how much I weigh but my parents SWEAR I've lost weight. I don't know how. I sit all day and let my mind drift in between helping customers. Oh, and I eat crap for lunch. Chicken nuggets, orange chicken, cheese pizza, iced coffee.. I sell insurance, by the way. If you're wondering what that's like... well it's like selling insurance. I'm not going to admit that I hate the job via the internet, but let's just say that this employment has given me an opportunity to figure out what I REALLY want to do. Which is NOT sell insurance. You know what, I'd be okay going the rest of my life never selling anything for commission again. Money doesn't motivate me much. I have an hourly wage already, telling me that if I shaft this person out of 40 dollars of their hard earned money so that I can get a cut of it won't really make me want to charge them 40... How about 10? Is 10 good? No? I'm fired? Okay.

That's really all I've been up to. I did attend A-Kon this year, and it was a lot of fun actually. I thought it'd be lame with the insane amount of people and the fact that I couldn't go all day because of my new job, but it turned out rather nice. I'm pretty excited for Animefest as well, so yaaaaaaaay. If you're wondering how I'm fairing after another "break-up" well, as you can see I'm feeling dandy and this summer has been tons better than last year's.

Not really much else to report other than I was stricken with the urge to write (FINALLY!) and I'll be posting the little bit of what I have so far in a minute. Oh, I should also REALLY change my layout. Would someone like to assist me?

~C.M. xx

Bite

That night is not even a memory
All the words we spoke
All has been revoked
Only empty air passed between our lips
A lie
I was alive once
A boy brought me back to light
He brought me back to hope
But everything came back to bite

(How's that for angst?)

~C.M. xx

Take this pink ribbon off my eyes

This is something I wrote while I was recovering from heartbreak in the summer. Not sure where I was going with it. Suggestions, maybe?
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The sky was a deep, far-away orange. The rain poured like never before. Relentless. Just yesterday it was sunny and hot. No wind disturbed the late-blooming June bugs. Tonight, however, we were warned by the weather girl to keep out mattresses on stand-by in case of a tornado. Texas weather is never very stable. Neither are the people.

I turned away from the kitchen window and contemplated a cup of coffee. I decided against it due to the wretched humidity. I half-hoped I wouldn't have any uninvited guests stopping by while at the same time realizing that I rarely got visitors any way. A wry smile crept along my face. I often though somber thoughts but never found them to be all that depressing. Though if I ever confessed half of the morbid things that crawl within my cerebral matter to a therapist I just might have to be committed. That's a joke, mostly.

~C.M. xx

Fairies, Crows, and Other Things That Fly

I didn’t see you come in.. I was too busy scribbling away in my journal, quietly concocting a simple story for future abandonment. Wednesday evening chatter buzzed around me, so did the clicking of keyboards the ring of the cash register and whirr of the espresso machine. You sat across from me, but I didn’t realize who you were and I didn’t really care. Seats were a rare thing in the coffee house and I was quite accustomed to being close to strangers. Finally, I paused to adjust my necklace and rose my gaze to meet yours. And there it was. That dreadful fluttering feeling you gave me as a child. You grinned and I nearly blushed.

“Hi,” You uttered.

I blinked a few times, released my necklace and shut my journal.

“Hi,” I squeaked back.

You pointed at a drink on the table that had appeared near me. You said you bought it for me and hoped that I still liked my coffee with cream and sugar. I smiled and thanked you for it. Soon afterward you engaged me into a conversation. It was normal, grown-up gibberish with polite questions. Then, you pulled a book from your messenger bag. It was my book, the one I wrote. You said that it was great, causing me to smile slightly. You continued, telling me how the main character reminded you of someone. Then I really did blush… I had hoped that you wouldn’t come across that publication. I started to stammer and clutch my necklace. As calmly as I could, I asked,

“W-Who? Who does he remind you of?”

You pointed a finger to your face, “Me.”

A part of me wanted to condemn you for being so conceited. To call you foolish for thinking that after so much time apart I’d waste my time to write about you. But you were right… He was you and you were the inspiration of that story. I lowered my head and smiled somberly,

“What gave it away? The long hair? Lanky frame?”

You smiled back, but much more warmly, “Well, that helped… but I think that it was his struggle to fill a void and his random hook-ups with younger gals.”

I blinked, not sure of what to say. I took a sip of my coffee, that was perfectly sweetened, and quietly shifted in my seat. You leaned forward and your vintage leather jacket groaned with the movement.

“Rachel, let me take you to dinner.”

I laughed involuntarily and then slapped my hand over my mouth. I then mumbled an apology before you told me you were serious. Suddenly, my phone went off. I asked you to excuse me as I answered it. It was an automated message from the phone company, complaining in a cheery voice that I hadn’t paid the bill on time. I talked back to the auto-nagger as if it was a friend of mine, stressing that I’d be there soon and I’d see them in awhile. I hung up, stuffed my things in my bag, thanked you for the drink and said goodbye. I made it three steps outside before you caught up to me. You gripped my shoulder to stop me and I shivered. I turned and kept my eyes on the sidewalk. I begged you to leave me alone. You tried to lift my gaze by lifting my chin with your index finger but I moved away. I knew better, I knew what you were doing.

“Oh, come on,” You said, trying to downplay your intentions, “Just a dinner?”

I shook my head. You were lying.

“Why now, Jake? I wrote the damned thing years ago… Why now?”

You sighed and put your hands in your pocket, signaling that you were uncomfortable.

“I made a mistake… I realized that I missed you just as much as you missed me.”

I only half listened to what you said as I was going crazy.

“Jake! I was there the whole time! For ages and ages and the moment I try to get away you chase me?!”

For a moment it looked like you wanted to grab my hand.

“Well, I’m here now and I know what I want finally. I know you want me too. I read the way you wrote about me…”

I scowled and readjusted my purse on my shoulder.

“Jake… I wrote that book six years ago.”

“Whatever, Rach, I know feelings like that don’t go away.”

“I’m happy now, Jake. I’m finally happy. Look!” And I shoved my left hand in your face so you could see my gleaming banded ring finger.

You opened your mouth to speak, but I continued, not wanting to lose the momentum of my pent-up aggravation.

“You had your chance. Everyone knew I loved you. Damn it, you knew it and you still fucked with my head! You’d hold my hand, tell me I was amazing then the next day some whore was telling me that you were the best night of her life. I wanted to die, just wither and die. And you knew it, you knew it all along but I was just a play thing. Just something to amuse you and waster your time with.”

“Rachel, I-”

“NO, Jake.. I am through being your stupid Barbie. I left for a reason.”

But you weren’t going to back down. I saw the glint in your eye. Before I knew it you had me by my waist and were shoving your tongue into my mouth. I hit your shoulder and chest furiously, trying desperately to fight my way out of your passionate wrath. You were kissing me harshly and I felt my lip start to bruise. I tried to scream against your mouth, but my words came out mumbled and stifled. As I was trashing about for what seemed like hours, I thought about how my adolescent wish had come true. You were kissing me and saying that you wanted to be with me. Yet, it was all so unpleasant and nightmarish. I wanted nothing more than to disappear. I finally managed a hearty punch to your stomach and you released me. I was panting and you were gasping for breath.

“I. Don’t. Love. You.” I said in broken breaths.

In my delirium and slight exhaustion, I slumped against the nearest wall, watching you slowly rise to your full height. You were wincing and your eyes glimmered with faux tears. How I always hated those.

“If you love this bastard so much… then why are you wearing his ring… and my necklace,” You said, looking down at me.

I was speechless. My hand automatically shot up to my neck. I hated when you were right. It was a simple chain, with a small charm in the shape of a fairy. It was probably the cheapest thing I owned, but at one time it held a world of worth. It meant that you and I had a chance. It meant that I wasn’t just another girl. At least… that’s what I had thought. I scowled and gripped it tightly. I had wished that you would come back to me. Past tense. Had.

I quickly tore it off of me, a few links falling away from me and I stood.

“This doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, neither does that book or you.”

And I threw the necklace onto the street where it awaited the weight of a car tire.

“Jake, I don’t love you anymore. Get over it and grow up,”

I was free, and I think you knew it. I walked a bit closer to you, “Because I have.”

You didn’t say a thing, so I decided to finally say my last words.

“Goodbye, Jake. Don’t ever contact me again and NEVER put your hands on me again.”

And with that, I slapped you across the face. It made a very satisfyingly painful noise and left my hand buzzing. As I walked off I could finally smile because the last tear in your eye was real and even though I had cried so much more, I knew you were hurting, just as much as I had.

Hearts

 Short story I wrote some time ago.
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The only thing that breaks the silence is the shuffling of the pages she turns. I'm sitting across from her in the Library as she leafs through her Physics book. I cross and uncross my ankles underneath the table. It's almost been a week since the party. I wonder if she remembers anything from the evening.

I blink as she looks up at me, noticing my gaze. I had been staring. She smiles and half-scowls, then returns to her studying. God, she is absolutely stunning. Green eyes, soft dirty blonde hair... petite and kind. I've never had a bigger crush on anyone.

That night at the house party, I was calmly sitting on the porch, nursing a bottle of water. The night air was heavy with humidity. "Hey you," She breathed into my ear from behind me. I had nearly had a heart attack. I noticed she was slurring her words when she had asked if it was cool if she sat with me. I smiled warmly and nodded.

She clears her throat and my heart stops for a moment. She holds her head in her hand and sighs as she re-reads a paragraph. My tongue tingles with questions I want so desperately to ask... but I'm afraid. What if she shot me down? Denied it all and stormed out?

I frown slightly and glance at her hands... Her slender, elegant, feminine hands. I can nearly feel them running over my—

"Is there a formula chart in this thing?" She half-whispered to me.

I widen my eyes, shake my head feverishly and start to blush as I scribble nonsense into my notebook, pretending to be busy. Still, my thoughts stray back to the way she grinned at me and told me I was pretty. She leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips. It was only for a second (and she passed out afterward) but it was like time had froze. I look at her now, focusing on her reading, struggling to cram as much information into her head. The morning after the party she acted normal... besides dashing into the restroom to retch. I sigh, and realize that I am terribly and hoplessly in love with my roommate.

Empty

Another story...
______________________________

The hardwood floors were cold and creaked with emptiness. A chilly draft blew around my ankles as I stood in his room. Only a bed remained. His books, his clothes, his desk were all gone. I looked to the window to see clouds looming low in the sky. So suitable.

Slowly, I walked towards the bed and curled upon it. I found myself retreating into a fetal position. I glanced around and realized that the room was actually quite big... now that there was nothing in it. I closed my eyes, imagining that nothing had changed. He was still with me. He was still in the living room, watching the Food Network. I wasn't really alone. He hadn't met a gorgeous woman named Julia... He hadn't taken her to dinner in my car... He hadn't gone up to her apartment... He hadn't fallen out of love with me.

It was just a nightmare and I would wake up soon. Just a very bad dream... I hadn't found pictures of them together on his laptop... I hadn't lied to him and said I wouldn't be home... I hadn't waited around for him.. and I hadn't yelled at him the second he walked in the door. Julia hadn't walked in after him or demanded to know who I was. She hadn't called him a bastard and pulled a gun from her purse. She hadn't screamed and pulled the trigger... He hadn't been struck with the bullet, and crumpled to the floor. He hadn't died at the doorway as her eyes welled with tears. Julia hadn't dropped the pistol in the growing pool of scarlet blood and whispered, "I'm sorry," before stumbling away in a daze.

Just a nightmare... a terrible nightmare. My eyes shot open, and my face was wet.... but I was still in his room, and it was still empty.

The First Time

An old story that I wrote a while back... Tell me what you think, maybe?

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For a moment, I wasn't alone in the break room, staring at the Coke machine... I was right there with you, in your room, surrounded by posters of comic book heroes. It was dimly lit... I could barely make out the faint smile on your face as I pulled my shirt over my head.

A clanking sound made me jump, and I realized that my soda had been dispensed. If you must ask, yes, I did think about you at the most mundane times... While I was waiting for coffee, sending an email, watching my dinner be microwaved, during commercials, when I was drying my hair...

It had been so long that I didn't know if I even missed you anymore. All I knew for sure was that I still hated couples with a vengeance. At the mall, when I go to people watch, there will be two teenagers, madly in love. They'll begin to kiss at the fountain in the food court, which sends me and my strawberry-banana smoothie over to the bookstore. Do they remind me of us? I'm not so sure myself.

I took my drink with me over to the communal break room table. The air was cold and it freezed my toes. I began to regret buying the Coke. I sat there the whole thirty minutes, never opening the can. I decided to leave it there, in case someone else wanted it...

My Love

I miss writing so very much. I haven't been able to write anything of worth in a very long time. I usually don't complain about this, but today the weather reminded me that this time of the season is when I wrote the most. This was the time of year that I was most inspired. There is something so nostalgic about a chilly breeze and freezing fingertips.

Writing defined me. I was a writer. I wrote. That's what I did, that's what I was, that's what I always was going to do forever and ever and get paid for my passion. But things haven't panned out like that at all. I've lost my muse somewhere along the way. I've had writer's block before, but nothing nearly this severe. This is very different.

I tend to hide it... but I am devastated about not being able to write. It really pains me. Writing was my love. I was so good at it and it came so easily. Writing helped me deal with my problems and issues. It was there for me to pour my heart and soul into and I did, time and time again.

I don't know how to get it back... and it makes me really sad.

-melonXXXcupcake