Scorned by Lexi Morgan and Skylar Prichard

When the outside world is filled with light,
the moment I hear the air-raid siren,
its needle sound,
the fire has come.

Undying hate rings out.
The smell of silence is so old,
the reflection of his decay.
This was your exile
in the brief country, nearby,
so lonely that two could not stand it.

Sometimes I still have a sense of being followed.
A hand wind brushed past me.
A laughter, black and streaming,
footsteps in the shadow of memory
move in dreamy motion.
You can’t escape your life record.

Illusion

Deceptively pretty.

Beautiful with the morning dew settling on the soft red petals.

In the dark,

They’re as deep red as my beating heart.

One touch.

Just reach out.

It won’t hurt you.

“Trust me…”

Don’t trust it.

Don’t trust it.

I did.

All I got was red…

Red dripping to the lying petals to display their insincerity.

Sharp, Sharp thorns…

Just one little raindrop spreads out

The red.

It’s gone now.

The pretties can find some more

Blood.

Mine won’t be wasted anymore.

Audition

The lonely walk down

the aisle of truth

to my light of judgment

shreds my nerves and

collapses my heart and lungs.

Harsh ears and eyes wait their turns

just as I waited mine to

serve myself up on a silver platter.

Then it begins.

Each word spills out of my mouth

like a waterfall into the ocean;

each drop is so insignificant

but adds to a greater cause.

Grown-Up

I’m running

in a foggy haze.

The sky is a bright pinkish purple color.

The gravel under my feet is slippery;

I stumble.

But I keep going.

Running and running,

I don’t know what toward.

Maybe I’m after that falling star

at the far end of the sky.

Perhaps, the leprechaun’s pot of gold

is hidden among the trees.

Or maybe I’m searching for the untouchable spot

where the sun meets the moon in a changing of the guards.

I just keep running

toward something,

or maybe nothing.

I pull my jacket hood over my eyes.

I’m in a dark jungle

oblivious to the dangers lurking around me.

I feel a pounce on my shoulder…

I pull the hood back

and awake with a start.

Wake up little girl.

It’s time to go to work.

A Heavenly Place

Go where those others went

to the far side of the sky

where, perhaps, hate is not a word,

and the sun and moon, forever in a race,

stop and exchange a passionate greeting to

gain their light back

in order to shine on the earth.

Crying

Cry. Go on.

Let it out.

Drown out the splatter of tears

falling like rain

onto your shirt and sheets.

Get every last drop out of your eyes;

wash them, so they can see again.

Then listen to the silence,

the soft thump-thump-thumping of your heart.

It’s ready to get back out there.

So, wipe those tears,

and expect more soon.

That’s just the way life is.

So I Did

Standing there,

it wasn’t fair

that you had to go.

As you walked away

wasn’t it fitting for Heaven to say,

“Here’s some rain to fix the scene.”?

 

When it started to pour

you turned and, I could tell, longed for

me to run to you.

 

So I did.

 

My feet splashed the fallen rain

as the decreasing distance severed the pain

of watching you leave.

With a bounding leap,

I was off my feet

and in your arms in seconds.

 

The rain grew in power

as if reminding us that our hour

was gone.

 

You still had to go.

 

You told me to walk away,

so you wouldn’t be tempted to stay,

so I did.

 

In the pouring, beating, pounding rain.

When I was Young

When I was young at my nana’s house, my nana had a freshly cooked five star meal prepared for me upon arrival every day.

I followed up dinner with a birthday party with an orange cupcake with a single candle stuck in one of the icing loops for a cake. This was not a rare occasion.

I hid under the table in order to eat icing and sugar raw from their containers, no matter how many times my nana warned me that I’d get worms.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers found me in the back yard hurling brightly colored water balloons as hard as my little arm could handle at my aunt, who was always a good sport.

I used to be an animal expert in that back yard, chasing lizards and chipmunks and hopping the fence to her neighbor’s yard just so I could play with her little Chihuahua, Pippy.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers also found me on the lonely road that passes by her front yard. The tires of my old bike with the tasseled handle bars know every inch of that road.

Scooby-Doo existed, not only on TV, but in my real life. Each day that old road found me assuming the persona of Daphne Blake, while my loving aunt took directions very well from a small young girl.

At the end of the day, when her neighbor’s grandson was in town, the fireflies knew they had better run, or we were gonna capture them all in recycled jam jars.

When I was young at my nana’s house, I never was bored. My imagination ran wild, and so did I. But no matter where in the world I thought I was, I never forgot where I was really standing: on the sacred ground of my childhood.

In Color

I’d like to be red

and have a firey passion burning in my soul with every tick of a clock’s long hand.

I’d like to be yellow

and always wear a bright raincoat that fogginess and dreariness roll right off of.

I’d like to be blue

and be able to calm a storm that may be tearing through my life like a tornado.

I’d like to be orange

and be flamboyant and energetic so I can bounce through life like a happy bunny on a mission.

I’d like to be green

and have a positive nature about me that allows me to go anywhere at all.

I’d like to be purple

and have a noble view on everything so that I don’t have to feel less than royal.

But the truth is,

I’m black. As black as the three a.m. sky.

I’m strong, sophisticated, elegant, and

Powerful.

But, black is a mixture of all colors.

So, I guess

I’m rainbow.

 

 

Where I’m From

I am from the same two-story brick building where my parents lived before me.

I am from funny stories before bed and warm clothes fresh from the dryer upon awakening.

I’m from the twisted world of imagination,

from the fuzzy line between dreams and reality.

I’m from the voices that never leave saying, “Never give up,” and “You’re beautiful.”

Strangely, they sound like my nana.

I am from Logan High School graduates turned Marshall alumni with hearts that bleed the mixture of blue and gold.

I am from, “Sure, but don’t tell your mother,” and eating vanilla icing out of the tube.

I am from Please and Thank yous,

from graciousness and kind hearts.

I’m from kisses and hugs hello and goodbye,

from the warm, loving family that lives always in a special little place in my heart.