heartbreak and cigarettes

Tag: creative

  • Counting the stars.

    Counting the stars.

    The town lit up
    as the sky turned black
    and we walked down
    the boardwalk,
    hand in hand,
    counting the stars.

    “Counting the stars.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • The end of us.

    The end of us.

    I watched the rain
    streak down the glass
    of the windows.
    Thinking of the last time we spoke;
    I didn’t realize that would be
    the end of us.

    “The end of us” – sugar and sandalwood

  • The beach.

    The beach.

    We were sitting on
    the beach, basking in
    the sunshine, and he
    opened the bottle of
    rose and said
    don’t moments like
    these last forever?

    “The beach.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • The last time.

    The last time.

    I lay in bed, gazing
    at the sky as clouds
    roll past. The sun beams
    down onto my face, and
    all I can think of is
    the last time we kissed.

    “The last time.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Time.

    Time.

    And over time,
    you will shed
    the layers of
    insecurities
    and untruths
    that you
    patched onto
    yourself
    like an
    uncomfortable
    quilt.

    “Time.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Life expands.

    Life expands.

    Life expands
    as it goes on.
    Opportunities
    open wide
    with experience.

    “Life expands.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Memories

    Memories

    Reels of film
    unravel
    in my mind.

    Moments lost,
    swept away
    by the hands of
    time.

  • Lost.

    Lost.

    Yesterday, I got lost.
    But,
    I didn’t realize it until I
    reached my destination. Somehow,
    I got to where I was going
    without a map —

    my phone died,
    I couldn’t recognize any strangers
    on the sidewalk with faces
    that looked like they knew
    where they were going either.

    But,
    I’m sure they arrived where they’d intended,
    just as I did, and
    I’m sure, like me,
    they’d had no idea
    they were even trying
    to get somewhere
    in the first place,
    or that they were even

    lost.

    “Lost.” – bem

  • The ledge.

    The ledge.

    The most fearful moment is
    when we stand on that ledge
    looking down below
    from the airplane
    cliff
    diving board.

    Butterflies in your stomach
    Life flashing before your eyes
    Like film,
    polaroids,
    stills.

    But the weird thing about it is
    If we never took that leap of faith,
    Swallowed that ball in our throats,
    Ignored the butterflies
    and the adrenaline that made our
    blood pump and hearts race like hell,

    There would be no highlight reel
    8×10 glossies
    Instagram feed
    of memories
    Flashing through our minds.

    And so, as we go on,
    There will always be that new moment,
    Dying for its place on the reel.
    And the only thing that allows it to happen
    Is that same moment
    In different places
    At different times
    On different ledges

    Where we find ourselves
    Feeling that screaming feeling
    Between fear and courage.

    Mocking you,
    Taunting you,
    Because oftentimes what looks and feels like falling down
    Is really a jolt up
    Into that sparkling, crackling, newness,

    And the look down is merely
    A reminder
    of what you’ve accomplished
    Lying beneath you, behind you, underneath you.
    Supporting you
    As you stand tall,
    preparing to skyrocket forward.

    Screaming
    between clenched teeth,
    eyes,
    fists
    Into that sparkling, crackling, newness.

    “The ledge” – BEM