Sunday, July 25, 2010

How Perfect You Feel

How safe I feel,
Lying next to you.
Quiet secrets shared,
Stories told,
Love made,
And life lived.
How safe I feel,
In your quiet company,
Surrounded by the smell of you,
The smell that intoxicates me.
When I am weak,
When I break,
When the world becomes too much,
It’s the silence that I crave,
And your warm embrace.
You’re not perfect,
But you’re mine,
And that’s enough for me.
As much as I crave you,
I can do without.
I don’t want all of you,
Not if it would dry you out.
Take what you will of me,
I will give it all.
I know that you won’t take it,
Because you’re afraid to fall.
I love you
And that’s enough for me,
Because maybe, just maybe,
One day you’ll love me.

Glass Hearts

Glass hearts break,
Shatter as glass objects do.
And still we walk away,
Because it is nothing new.
What do we do
If that heart will not heal?
What do we do
If that pain is all too real?
A piece that shall never be returned.
A piece of me.
A piece of me....
Why do we love,
If it hurts so?
Why can't I forget?
Why can't I let go?
My glass heart
Breaks in two.
My glass heart
Breaks for you.

Friday, July 23, 2010

A Pixie Ghost Story

A lone campfire lit up a small alcove of trees. Well, not exactly a campfire, more of a tiny burning match, but to Troop 7631, it was a giant bonfire. Most likely because Troop 7631 was a pixie Troop. Grinelda, the Troop’s leader, looked at the tiny yawning faces of the pixie girls left in her care for the week.

“Ok guys, just one more story, then it’s off to your tents. Who wants to go next?” She asked.

“It’s my turn Neldie!” Wendlyn called out. She was the tiniest of all the pixies, most of the other girls called her Runt, and she was the victim of constant ridicule.

Many of the other pixies laughed. “What would you know about ghost stories Runt! You’ll probably piss yourself because of your own story!” one called out.

Wendlyn ruffled her wings, “I said it’s my turn! And I’m taking it, so shut your pollen-filled mouth! Now, this is the story of a haunted fly swatter!
There was a small human child who knew of the existence of pixies, but no one believed him. So he bought himself a flyswatter and would sit all the daylong on his front porch with his little flyswatter trying to smack the pixies that would come to mock him.

One day the rains came, and the little boy’s mother called for him to go inside, but he refused, sitting still with his little flyswatter, in hopes that this would be the day that he got himself a pixie. Because of the cold of the rain the boy quickly grew sick, but he still refused to go inside with his mother. As the boy’s illness grew, he would grip his flyswatter tighter and smack at anything that came close to him. But the pixies were still too quick for him to swat.

Finally the boy’s illness took him, and the local pixies felt that they were safe from the flyswatter, though they felt very sad for the boy’s mother who cried the whole day long because of her lost child. She would not throw the flyswatter away because of how precious it was to her son, so she left it sitting on his favorite chair on the front porch. Some of the younger pixies thought it would be funny to come and sit on the flyswatter. Three little pixies, about our age, went to sit on the flyswatter that the little boy used to try and swat at them with. As soon as they landed the flyswatter flip over and squished them all!

Pretty soon they’re parents became worried about their little ones and decided to go and check at the flyswatter. As soon as they got close enough to see their little squished children, the flyswatter rose and squished them all. The last thing that they heard was a child’s gleeful giggle.”

Some of the young pixies shivered (death by flyswatter was rumored to be very painful) as Wendlyn grinned widely. “So the moral of this story is, be careful who you pick on.”

As Wendlyn finished her sentence, a flyswatter landed on top of the three meanest pixies, and she giggled with glee.