Tag Archives: writing

Small Town Diaries (Pt. 1)

This small town is so lonely
The streets are empty but overpopulated by desperate sighs for companionship
We fill in the ringing of loneliness in our ears with good music
But good music is only good company until it gets inside of you and then you’re alone once again
My only partner in impossible opportunity for crime used to be whatever I knew would hit my bloodstream first, but I wanted to keep the company of my sanity, so I welcomed loneliness to the seat next to me once again and wrapped my arm around it, placing my detoxing heart in between us
It is possible to regret letting go of an addiction, but I didn’t know what else to use the last of my strength on
You could say that I had no idea that using my last ounce of fight on something that made me feel on top of the world would open the door for such a strength to walk charmingly into my life
I want so badly to go back to my roots, but I have a bad habit of never returning any of its calls for me

~Megan

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Quiet Fire

I could hold as many grudges as I want with incredibly good reason, but then how in the world would I have any room to hold on to the wonderful things?
The look in your eyes says marvelous things, but then your actions speak some sort of foreign language
And your aura… it is like shaky hands
Just let me hold them tightly so I can reassure you that time is of the essence, yes, but so is taking life moment by every miniscule to grand moment
I am miss black lung and buzzing head
Miss enigmatic open book and big broken heart
Miss captivating eyes and busted sense of self
I may be nearly blind, but I see clearly in hindsight
And I don’t need 20/20 vision to see right into your soul
Don’t even waste your time on underestimating the flames of a quiet fire, because, one day, that spark from my touch will light up your life
I have scorched earth in my luminescent blue and green eyes but I have a soft spot for boys with a warm gaze who taste like cigarettes and don’t ask me to let them love me

~Megan

Words Are My Weapon; My Mind Is The Arsenal

I am a writer, the english language is my art supplies

I have an addiction to conversation an unreasonable love for my language

I will not ever personally label my own self as a poet, but I believe that inspiration dances around my words sometimes

I can use the pitch of my voice and movement of my tongue to paint you the most beautiful sunset that you have ever seen

I can get you lost in the most terrifying non-existent dreamland with the seemingly monotonous taps on a keyboard that ends far too quickly for me

I know how to get in and out of trouble. I know how to make you completely forget about what we were supposed to be talking about.

I am a writer; I can make you laugh, I can make you cry, I can make you smile, and I can make you frown

I possess the ability to make your heart race, to make you fall in love, and to piss you the fuck off

I am a writer; your every emotion is intertwined within the ink inside of a single pen, held within every key on my outdated keyboard

I know what I am doing when it comes to words

I know what I am doing when it comes to your imagination

With writing, I, in the moments that you enter the world of my chaotic and enigmatic mind, hold each string attached to every single one of your emotions

And trust me, dear, I will pull as many as humanly possible sometimes

I will shock you, I will impress you

Most importantly, I will open your eyes

I know how to make it look like my first nature. In some ways, it is my first nature.

I am a writer; words are my weapon.

My mind is the arsenal

And I….. I will change your life

~Conversationally addicted word lover~

-Megan

Lunar Beauty

It’s nice to have someone who makes it all go away
But when it’s 2a.m. and that person is asleep in their own bed, the moon likes to shine into your room and remind you that it’s all still there waiting
Without him right next to me to protect me, this spotlight will not hesitate to keep me awake and drive me insane
The best way that I can tell you my predicament is to tell it like I feel it:
I was in love with the moon
I met someone who told me that it was best to embrace it
He taught me all sorts of things about the night and the moon and spiritual things
The cooling that it whispered through the air in the night gave me comfort and made me feel that I could finally breathe
I embraced the illumination on my skin like you’d embrace your friend’s hand on your shoulder
I looked forward to its rising
I enjoyed the white glow throughout my bedroom, throughout the town
The peace that it brought…
But then the night turned me into someone self destructive; the peace morphed into loneliness
And I began to get upset with any sort of cold because my heart became selfish in wanting to be the only one to bring that chill
I dreaded the moon at its strongest moments, but it was just as dangerous for it to disappear for a little during the those early morning hours
The lunar beauty ripped the strings out of my hands and took control of my every thought and emotion
And to be honest, I don’t know how to fight this one back
I am a prisoner of beauty
I am a confused soul

~Megan

Who Are You?

I am a backwards sentence

The torn out ending of a 500 page novel

A cigarette that was flicked too hard making the cherry fall out

I am the warmth in your tummy after your first sip of Fireball whiskey

I am the spot where you chipped the paint off of your wall but find that you like the color underneath better

I’m meeting an old friend for the first time in your life

I am denial; “I don’t love her…who am I kidding, I’m crazy about her”

I am a set of green eyes and a crooked spine

The stumble in the words waiting to be said for far too long

I’m an unanswered question asked 100 times

A smile at a stranger

The person that you always sit next to in a huge crowd of people you’ve never met but somehow feel comfortable with

I guess, most importantly, I’m myself

~Megan

Wind Pt. 2 Ft. Redundancy

To whom it may concern:

I guess that I should’ve warned you about the wind

Always there but unattainable

But I guess that I just wanted things to be different this time; a place where I was free to be reckless; Free to just be

But I could never stay, and this could never work

And I’m not one to ever use a joke of a word like “never,” but never seems to be the most accurate description of when we could ever possibly stably be together

It’s not that I don’t want to tie you down or anything, but that fact is that I couldn’t even if I tried

And it’s the fact that I don’t want to take you with me; thrashing you around or spinning you around in circles like you’re on a wheel like a goddamn house pet

You’ve been through a lot, but you’re essence of a pure soul doesn’t have any business being dirtied by my unintentionally harsh ways

I will not let you become who I was

The only difference between you and I is that I don’t think you can take it

Your undiscovered innocence is a virtue, not a crime, and I refuse to convict you

Innocent until proven guilty, though

You’re trying to capture and lock away the feeling of a breeze into your mind and tornado into your poor confused heart and repave my path that I’ve left abandoned for a reason

You have no business with my chaotic ways

I’m already cruel enough when I conjure up a mask of water as to fool you into thinking I’m something so constant

You’re naive enough to undetectably break yourself down into sand just for me

~Megan

I honestly cannot recall who this was written to/about, but I hope you’re still in one piece.

I’ll Be Your Masterpiece

I make-believe strength

I play dress up in concepts that I’ve yet to grasp and drag my feet in shoes that I can’t seem to fill

I’ve lost the key to my mind and there’s no picking a lock into ideas

People are far too heavy to hold up all the time but if you would just hold my hand, we could lead each other instead of bringing anyone down

All I want is be woken up by the light of your eyes and the touch of your lips like unforgiving rays of sunshine warming my cheeks as I struggle to open my eyes that tell you “good morning” without me even having to utter a word

Just brush your sentences through my hair and dress me up in the idea of being with me for the rest of your life

I’ve lost my fear of falling; I’m too clumsy and eager for such a silly idea anyway

Just know that my gentle strokes along your body are never going to be placebos to make you feel love

And that “I love you” never comes out smoothly because it’s not something familiar to me, but I will whisper into your ear how I feel about you until you fall asleep as I try to fight the constant urge to kiss every part of you that comes near me

Pick me flowers and plant their seeds in every scar of mine

Color in my tattoos with the ways that I make you feel; see me as the masterpiece that I am

I am abstract and incomprehensible

Trace every one of my curves and scars with your eyes, your fingertips, your lips

Take them in with every possible inch of your body

Handle me with passion

Hold me with forgiveness

Speak to me with patience

Kiss me firmly and kiss me breathlessly

I want to know that your love is too boundless to stay in the lines

~Megan