No More Halos, Please. I’m Only Human.

I never wanted to be put on a pedestal,

Lofted so high off the ground,

That the world below becomes a blur.

And yet my iron throne was built,

On my painfully clean childhood,

Where my only adventures consisted,

Of riding horses and spending time with family,

With no experimentation of any kind.

Friends and acquaintances alike,

Mistake my lack of interest in booze and drugs,

As a sign of angelic wings,

Forcing the feathery burden upon my back,

And using it as an excuse not to talk to me.

Lovers shy away from my forgiving nature,

Instead elevating me to a height so dizzying,

I have no choice but to fall,

Tarnishing my forced upon halo as I break across the hard ground,

Left to glue myself back together,

When they realize I’m merely human.

I am not a saint.

Nor an angel or a god,

But a young woman,

Who has many flaws and imperfections,

With feelings and emotions just as real as those around me,

Someone who wants to love and be loved,

Not spoken of in reverent voices,

By those terrified of what I’ll say or do if they screw up.

But instead, I am enshrined,

Locked away in a faraway tower,

Only allowed to come out,

When someone is in need of saving,

And then immediately hidden away again,

The second the act is done.

Because god forbid I get drunk,

Or have sex,

Or anything resembling bad.

Surely, the apocalypse would happen,

Complete with the four horsemen and end of days,

If I weren’t a saint,

But instead viewed as what I really am,

Which is to say,

Only human.

Understanding

Perhaps it was arrogant for her to believe,

While watching the one she once loved,

Destroy yet another,

That she understood why God did not interfere.

It wasn’t cruelty or indifference,

Or even hatred,

That caused his aloofness. 

But sadness,

Deep and profound,

Ripping apart every good feeling,

For like God,

She had once,

Put all of her hopes and dreams,

On the shoulders of man,

Only to have them broken,

Shattered into dust.

And while she managed to find,

The strength to keep going,

Something inside of her,

Still broke,

When he continued on his destructive path.

And while she longed to help him,

To save him from himself,

She couldn’t.

Because he had made his own choices,

Wrote his own destiny,

And now,

Like everyone else,

He had to live with those choices.

And she had to learn,

How to abstain

Or she would be broken,

All over again.

Left to Rot

Whispered pleas

Falling on deaf ears

Cold chains

Ripping at fragile skin

Bruised feet

Stumbling on icy ground

Torn nails 

Clawing at steadfast shackles.

I do not deserve imprisonment,

Yet you locked me in your dungeon,

And threw away the key

Welding the iron bars that form my cage shut

With lustful promises and heartfelt confessions,

Using my compassion against me,

Blinding me with hope,

Until it was too late to run.

The bars of my entrapment

Are windows to only pain,

As you move into the light with another,

Leaving me dark and cold,

Wondering how this could be.

I ask you to let me go,

Half-heartedly,

Uncertain whether I truly want you gone

For I cared for you once,

And thought you did for me.

You brush away my pleas,

Tossing careless promises like breadcrumbs,

Which I greedily inhale,

Starved for affection of any kind.

You laugh at my desperation,

Scorn me behind my back,

Leaving me to rot,

Hoping that one day you’ll change your mind,

And release me from this hell,

But you never do.

Day by day,

My resolve grows stronger,

And I demand you let me go.

Almost mockingly,

You don a confused look,

Asking if I were so unhappy,

Why didn’t I just leave?

My lungs fill with acid,

Heart beats twisting painfully,

I sink to my knees,

Stunned and horrified

When I realize

That these bars and chains

Are invisible to you,

And that you no longer care,

Whether I stay or go.

A prison of my own making,

Yet I can’t seem to find a key,

Or the door to release me from my fate.

You stare at me through the bars,

Like you would an abused animal.

To stengthen the metaphor,

I snarl,

Suddenly feral,

And leap at you.

But the bars and chains you created,

Stop me short,

And I am once more on my knees,

As you disappear,

Frightened of what you’ve created,

And unable to deal with the consequences,

Never to return,

And once more,

Leaving me to rot.

“You’re Too Quiet”

You ask me why I’m quiet,

Eyes searching for hidden meanings,

A dark past that will make all my pieces fit

Together like a jigsaw puzzle,

Sadness darkening your expression,

When I don’t reply with a story of a broken heart,

But instead with a tale of a tired present,

And exhausted future.

I’m quiet,

Because I’m waiting for all of this to end,

For the other shoe to drop,

And for you to leave,

Like so many others.

Because my heart still races,

Every time your name lights up my phone,

And your stupid antics still make me laugh,

Your smile makes me melt,

And I hate it,

Knowing that it’ll soon be gone.

I pull away from you,

And your friends,

Choosing silence and solitude,

Over getting too close and then having it ripped away,

Forcefully,

When you walk out that door.

You think me cold and aloof,

Snobby and pretentious at times,

When in reality,

I’m only doing what I can

Because people always leave,

And you are no exception,

So it’s better to be alone now,

Than deal with a broken heart later.

You Were Smarter As A Fifth Grader

She was ten,

Far too young to know a thing about love,

Watching the boy with the crooked smile

Charm girl after girl

Mercilessly breaking their hearts

In a way only fifth grade boys could.

He turned that smile on her,

And she smacked him,

Saying “don’t you dare fall for me.”

His smile stiffened,

But he said okay,

And they ran hand in hand down the hallway.

She was eighteen,

Eager to be out on her own and fall in love,

Ignoring the warning bells in her head,

As a boy with a crooked smile,

Turned his gaze on her.

Fall for me, she asked,

Hoping vainly for something,

She instinctively knew wouldn’t work.

His smile grew,

And for a while,

It seemed that maybe it was love.

But she second guessed herself too much

And he too easily charmed another,

So with sadness in her eyes,

She said “let me go,”

He said okay,

And they parted ways.

Obsidian City Chapter Blurb (In which, I am dabbling with some stuff and just need to post it somewhere) 4

Maggie rested her back against the damp brick wall, letting her booted feet dangle over the loading dock ledge. Rain fell in a torrential downpour just beyond the edge of the tin roof, turning the cracked pavement parking lot into a shallow pool. Dim orange light from a nearby streetlamp glistened in the water, giving the rainy night a lonesome feel.

A gust of wind sent a wall of water in her direction, drenching her instantly. Maggie shivered, pulling her thin black leather jacket tighter around her body.

Footsteps vibrated on the metal catwalk. Maggie didn’t look up, immediately recognizing the heavy tread as Paul’s.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he announced, sliding down the wall to sit next to her. “You okay?”

Maggie lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. Truth be told, she really wasn’t. The visit to the night club had been an altogether way too painful reminder of her time in the Obsidian City, but Maggie couldn’t really tell Paul that. Not when she was supposed to be getting better.

Paul let out a noise halfway between a sigh and a growl. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” he informed her.

Maggie looked sideways at him. His curly brown hair was plastered to his head, his coat black with rain. Water droplets dripped off the edge of his nose. But earnest green eyes gleamed at her in the darkness, and she knew that he honestly wanted to help her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said at last, looking away. Her gaze felt on the streetlight, which appeared to shimmer in the rain.

“You’re allowed to be sad,” Paul said quietly. “Hell, after everything you’ve told me, it’s a miracle that you’re still in one piece.”

“But?” Maggie prompted bitterly. She already guessed what he was going to say, and the last thing she wanted was for him to tell her to just let it go. To forget everything that happened, write it off as a bad dream, and to never talk about it again. That was like asking for her to make the rain stop or the sun go around the Earth–it was impossible.

Paul shook his head. “But nothing,” he said. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”

Maggie looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“You’ve been through Hell,” he said simply. “Shit like that… It’s going to take more than a couple of weeks to get over. But you don’t have to go through it alone. No matter what happens, Maggie, you can talk to me. About anything.”

“And if I don’t want to talk?” she challenged softly. Because there were some things she doubted she would ever be able to talk about, and if he wasn’t going to respect that, she needed to know now.

Paul merely smiled sadly. “Then I’ll just sit here and watch the rain with you,” he said. He shrugged. “Maybe hug you, if you want a hug.”

Maggie refused to admit there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. Swallowing hard, she added, “And I’m sorry. For being like this.”

“Don’t apologize,” Paul ordered. His voice was firm, but gentle. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not now, not ever.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if that was true, but she needed to hear that. God, did she ever need to hear that.

“Thank you,” she repeated, unable to fully express how grateful she was to hear that.

Paul smiled again. “Any time,” he said simply.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat on the edge of the loading dock, watching the rain fall in silence, but it was peaceful. She finally felt herself begin to relax, for the first time since she had returned home.

Eventually, Paul produced a carton of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket.

“Want one?” he asked, offering her the carton.

Maggie shook her head. She’d never had the urge to smoke before and she wasn’t going to start now.

He shrugged, popping a cigarette out of the carton and lighting it. It glowed orange, with a small curl of silvery smoke disappearing into the rainy night.

The sickly sweet smell of tobacco and nicotine seemed to loosen something within her, for Maggie suddenly found herself talking.

“There was this night club I went to,” she began. “Aaron–,” it hurt less than she thought it would to say his name “had some business there. It turned out that the day we went was Remembrance Day, the one day of the year where everyone was allowed within the city, not just the chosen ones.”

She would always be able to recall that night with perfect clarity. The dark violet sky. An intense energy that vibrated within every fiber of her being. A tangle of humanity, as every walk of life converged on to one spot. Electrifying music that pulsed in time to Maggie’s heart, making her feel more alive than ever before. A sense of belonging coupled with a powerful urge to keep this raw, unfettered display of humanity alive and whole.  And at the center of it all, a blond haired boy with a crooked smile and mischievous blue eyes, grabbing Maggie by the hand and guiding her through the overwhelming chaos.

“I felt like I belonged for the first time,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I was alive, able to do anything I wanted. Everyone there accepted me for who I was. It didn’t matter that I was some nerd scientist from backwoods Virginia. It only mattered that I was there. It was completely unreal. Incredible…. There are no words to describe what it was really like.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“And now it’s gone,” she whispered. “That feeling… that acceptance…. Everything I was and all I could be in that moment, all the dreams that I had, everything that I wanted to do… It’s all gone. And now? Now, I don’t know what to do or say anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. I just feel… empty.”

“Because Aaron is gone?” Paul guessed.

She shook her head. “I mean, yeah, that’s part of it,” she amended. “But it’s so much more than that. It was a way of life. It’s funny; everyone knew they were absolutely screwed–between the purist dictatorship, the radiation, and the monsters, there was really no hope for any of them. But that made them more alive. They appreciated what they had and didn’t care about what wasn’t theirs. They were free to be themselves. Yeah, it was horrible, what was happening, but they did the best they could and said fuck you to the consequences.”

“So what’s stopping you from going back to that now?” Paul asked.

Maggie sighed, fiddling with her necklace.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted. “I never–I didn’t think I was ever going to come back here. And I certainly didn’t think I would lose everyone I cared about in the process. I guess now, I just don’t know who I am any more.”

Paul reached over and grasped her hand gently in his. It was warm and calloused, speaking of years of manual labor. It was comforting, being touched even in a casual way by someone else. Maggie didn’t realize just how much she had been cutting herself off from everything until then.

“Maggie,” he said in admonishment. “No one knows who they are. That’s part of being human.”

“I thought I did,” Maggie murmured sadly. “I was the scientist the rebels needed to win the war. I was special. More than that, I was smart, and confident, and invincible.”

“You still are those things,” Paul protested. “You are still a scientist. You are very much one of the smartest people I have ever met. And maybe, right now, you are a little lost, but you are still the same person, Maggie. You just need to find yourself again.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Maggie admitted. “After everything that happened…. I don’t know how to be me anymore.”

“You go back to your roots,” Paul said. At Maggie’s dubious look, he added, “It sounds horribly cliche, I know, but sometimes, you have to go back to where you came from to know who you are today.”

“What if I’ve changed too much?”

It was a fear she’d had since she got back, that she had changed beyond recognition. That she would never be the person she had been in Obsidian City, that she was forever destined to walk a gray and empty life.

“You haven’t,” Paul said firmly. When Maggie began to shake her head, he added, “You are still you. You might be a little rougher around the edges, a little darker than before, but everything that makes you you is still there. You just have to dig a little to find it. And I’ll be there for you every single step of the way.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she whispered.

“You’re not asking,” Paul declared. “I’m volunteering.”

There were a million things Maggie wanted to ask–why, most of all–but she let it go. Whatever Paul’s reasoning was, it could not be denied that he was a good friend. And even if it made her weak and selfish, Maggie couldn’t deny that she wanted him around–that she needed him around.

So, instead, she murmured a soft thank you and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist in a comforting hug.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “I promise you, Maggie, everything is going to be okay.”

Obsidian City Chapter Blurb (In which, I am dabbling with some stuff and just need to post it somewhere) 3

The shower floor resembled an abstract painting, with swirls of red and pink mixing seamlessly into gritty brown as they circled toward the silver drain. Red flecked foam added a dynamic finish to the piece.

It was gruesomely beautiful, captivating Maggie’s exhausted attention. She knew in a detached way that the run-off should not be that color, that blood and dirt were turning the water into a museum masterpiece, but she was more absorbed in the way the blood turned brilliant shades of red and orange as it hit the water and spread over the pristine white tub floor.

Like a sunset, she thought absently.

Cowardly Comforts

For every thousand times my mind screams,

To give you a second chance,

That maybe this time things will be different,

And things will finally work out,

There is a whisper of fear,

That things will work out,

All too well,

For a while at least,

Before I invariably screw everything up,

Like I always do,

And instead of being the one to help you,

I wind up being the one to hurt you the most.

So as much as it hurts,

To watch you move on to another

From far away,

I can at least take the cowardly comfort,

In knowing that I was not the one to break your heart.

Never to Return

Gone is the crippling sadness,

The betrayal and the heartache.

All I’m left with now,

Are bittersweet memories,

And the ghosts of what was once,

And what could have been. 

Moving on helps,

But it will never be the same,

And it saddens me,

To lose everything we had,

And know that we will never get it back.

Frozen Words

The words “be careful”

Stop just inside my mouth,

Swallowed by the idea,

That you would think me jealous,

For attempting to guard you,

From the heartache that is waiting,

At the end of your road.

We do not know each other well,

Or at least,

Not well enough for you to understand,

That while we share similar love interests,

It is not jealousy that guides my tongue,

But worry and experience,

Of what fate awaits you. 

I care too much,

About those that I barely even know,

And care infinitely more,

About those that I know too well.

You are simultaneously,

A stranger,

And what I see in the mirror.

I am torn,

Between overstepping my bounds,

And losing everything,

For the sake that you might be happier in the long run,

And letting go,

Trusting that one way or another,

Things will work out,

Even if it means,

That you will get hurt in the process.

It is not in my nature,

To sit idly by,

And watch a train wreck,

Doing nothing to stop it,

Especially if I have the power to,

But I do not know,

If you would appreciate my intervention.

So I sit and watch,

Biting my tongue,

Going prematurely gray,

Scared to act,

Terrified of sitting still,

And always waiting.