will this be on the test? by Irrelephantlovesyou, literature
Literature
will this be on the test?
english class was her greatest enemy—
or perhaps her greatest fear.
she hated novels,
but despised poetry even more.
after all,
you can't search wikipedia
for the meaning behind
that one raven
and... what was it?
a writing desk?
and then,
even if she remembered
the words of that poem—
there's only so much
a search engine
can find on its own.
a.
she's not selfish, she tells me, as she slides a penny my way. a token of her gratitude, she says.
b.
it's dirty, not worth anyone's time but mine. it reminds me of her opinion of me -- also unworthy of people's time.
c.
the penny stays in my thoughts, as does she. selfish people and selfless people should go hand in hand, they say.
d.
i'm not sure where she went, but i hear she's happy. and since dimes are a dozen these days, i'd have paid a quarter to hear her say goodbye.
the weather girl on tv is talking to me as i eat breakfast one rainy morning.
"it's sunny out," she says with a smile on her face.
i wonder where she lives.
after all, there's no sign of sun today.
...
i'm not sure why, but i watch her every morning.
and for some reason she always says the forecast calls for sun.
where does she live? i wonder.
or is it her outlook that's sunny?
...
she says the morning promises sunshine.
i leave my umbrella at home and step out into the rain.
the sun isn't shining, but if she says it is, then who am i to deny it?
for all i know, it's always sunny where she's from.
mirror on the wall by Irrelephantlovesyou, literature
Literature
mirror on the wall
One morning in the ladies' restroom, I look in the mirror and see a boy looking back at me. I blink, he blinks. When I rub my eyes in disbelief, he does too. Something's wrong -- something has to be wrong. Men aren't allowed in here! Yet the boy is definitely a boy. I turn away and pretend I never saw him.
That same day before I take a shower, I look in the mirror and see the same boy. I blink, he blinks. When I stare him down, he stares right back. I pull my hair back and see from the neck up, I look just like him. I have a boy's face, I think, which can't be right. Maybe I should wear more makeup.
A week passes and I still see the boy. He
crying at another's party by Irrelephantlovesyou, literature
Literature
crying at another's party
My jokes fall flat
on their faces,
embarrassed
and just as red
as the color
of my cheeks.
When they get up,
they slip and slide
as I backtrack
and pretend
someone else
had told them.
Yet the people
I'm talking to
know better,
as do I.
We all know
I was the one
who clawed at
the front door
to their party,
begging for a
last minute
invitation.
After the makeup artist takes his leave, she asks us if she looks okay. Her eyelids are now as flamboyant and colorful as the people parading around. Somewhere outside someone is cheerfully speaking into a microphone, their amplified words even more vibrant than the eyeshadow caking my friend's eyes.
“And is that Miss ----? Oh, why yes it is! Hello, lovely! You’re lookin’ fine today, girl!”
We try to keep straight faces as we shower her in forced compliments. But unlike the Miss ---- the announcer is greeting, my friend looks awkward and unappealing. The rainbow doesn’t seem to fit her like it does the other pe
The details of Shiina Ringo
And her soft-hard jazz hit
Go unnoticed in my world,
Until a previously muted radio
Lets me listen to her song.
I'm none the wiser to its meaning,
But the volume dial spins
And this soft-hard jazz hit
Echoes in my ears long after
Shiina Ringo's gone off air.
I whispered softly
Under my breath
While looking up
At my starless ceiling,
"I'll stay awake until
A reply arrives."
But now it's been
Four days--
Or perhaps four hours--
Or maybe it's four in the morning--
And I want to rest my eyes
So I can dream,
Yet my heart is racing
Too fast for sleep.
And even if
My mind was quiet,
I made a promise.
So I'll wait until morning
Or until my phone chimes,
Which means I may
Be up all night.
The car engine purrs
As we race
Down the road,
On our way home.
“Hey,” she begins loudly
From the backseat,
“Did you hear about
The kid that died?”
I purse my lips
And go very quiet.
He speaks up
In my stead, saying,
“Yeah, I think they
Committed suicide, right?”
She nods, then
Asks another question.
“Did you hear they
Went to our school?”
He nods gravely.
As we drive away
From the ocean,
I eventually gather
Enough courage to say,
“Can we please stop?”
Video Game Diary by Irrelephantlovesyou, literature
Literature
Video Game Diary
A Nintendo Switched on
In a lonely video game
Store I visited with you.
You asked why I was
Crying. I told you
It was because of the
Price tag on the game
Console, but in truth
It was because I knew
The ending of the
Only game in stock.