This is what happens when a friend sends me a text message asking me to tell her something. It’s nothing big, I thought it up in almost no time, but I’d still like to have it on here. Who knows, it might mean something someday. 

Clementine is wandering aimlessly through the city that she’s known her whole life. The towering presence of the buildings used to give her comfort, a sense of stability, but not anymore. Clementine has this feeling of longing buried deep inside of her chest. She wants to pull it out, to shake it and ask “what do you want?”, but it’s too far for her to reach. And so the feeling remains a familiar stranger, unknown but oh so present. Without realizing it, she stops at the bridge that crosses the river, and leans over to look at the stream. Calmly, she starts humming a song under her breath. Islands in the stream. What does that even mean? Clementine grows frustrated. Why does everything always have to be so damn difficult? Always so hard to grasp. She huffs and kicks a stray piece of gravel on the ground. A chuckle interrupts her grumbles and she stops. That voice is familiar. Clementine turns around and is met by the grey eyes that, she hadn’t noticed until now, screamed home. Pedro. He gives her a beaming smile and asks: “Something bothering you?” “Life.” she answers, the corners of her lips twitching. Pedro silently walks up to her and picks up two stones off the ground. He holds one out for her and she takes it. “At least know that you’re not alone.” he says. At the sound of these words, something lifts. Clementine can feel the longing snaking its way upward until it’s at the very top of her lungs. She can’t help but let out a loud, tinkling laugh of exhilaration, and Pedro just smiles. As if this is completely normal. In this moment, something passes between them. Something that can’t be described. Pedro gives Clementine a look that says “Go ahead.” and for some reason, she knows exactly what he means. Clementine takes a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. “One. Two. Three!” Two stones are hurled through the air and hit the water. The sound of them breaking the surface is small, but the importance is immense. Two stones together, and never alone.


And then I just started thinking about who this Clementine might be, and thought of these small (fictional) facts.

Clementine has tan skin and soft, shiny black curls and walnut-shaped eyes. She’s short and curvy. She loves Janis Joplin, Dusty Springfield and Joan Mitchell. A hippy at heart but not very free-spirited in thought. Bad at thinking outside of the box.

She also has a slight southern twang that comes out when she gets upset or excited. She got it from her grandmother, a sweet southern lady from Texas, who practically raised her while her mother worked late shifts at the ER.

So yeah, there it is. She’s a nice girl, that one.

White. Black. Crimson. Black.

Crimson. Velvet. Crushed. Snow. Feathers. Drops of blood. Raven. Frosty eyelashes. A biting cold. Blushing cheeks. Black eyes. Footstep. A lavender ribbon. Flowing in the wind. Gemstones glistening.

The sun is setting. A vision of white. A silhouette marred by the sharp black lines of trees. Stretching up to the sky. Reaching. Looming. Silence is interrupted by the sound of feet hitting the ground. Running. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The frosty white, glistening like a gemstone, but giving away like cotton. A blurry vision of velvet in crimson. A girl moving. Her panting echoes through the woods. She stops, turning her black eyes towards the sky. Her cheeks are rose-stained, eyelashes stiff with frost, and the cold is biting. But she doesn’t care. Drip. Drip. Drip. A small pool of red gathers beneath her. The crimson smears forming a trace. She looks at the path, red staining white, and gives a deep sigh. The whole forest shakes with her release of breath, and everything settles. Silence once more. A flash through her eyes. A fleeting moment of clarity. The girl holds up her hand and examines the ribbon hanging from between her fingers. Immaculate satin. The girl starts running once again, with the white flowing behind her. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. A flapping of wings can be heard from a distance. The girl quickens her pace, ignoring the numbing sensation on her face. A velvet dress, the eyes of a lost girl, and a satin ribbon can be seen, moving in a blur. Crimson. Black. White. In a remote, but not all too remote, distance – a feather hits the ground. The black feather of a raven lands on top of the pool of blood. A raven’s feather, a lost girl’s blood, and the snow. Black. Crimson. White.


Look after me, I dwell in the night
In the dark of the shadows, I feel no fright
But do not be confused, I am a creature of light
Many years ago, I forgot what was right
But do not pity me, I try with all my might
To climb and face the most wuthering height
Despite my heart being wound so tight
I will try my best, for it is my plight
To gather up the courage and use the sight
To face my demons, to fight, fight, fight
To stop acting like a creature of night
Yes, in the light of day, I will feel no fright

Rhyming to pass the time.

I was just sitting and listening to some music when Little Lion Man (by Mumford and Sons) came on shuffle. Not thinking, I scribbled down a line and then just continued writing rhyming sentences. Fun little game when you don’t have anything better to do.

Weep little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start.
Just admit it, you forgot how it was to play the part.
Even though you secretly stayed up all night making a chart.
What used to taste so sweet and right is now nothing but tart.
Take your wounded pride, push it away in your sad, sad cart.
Darling, you knew you were lost when you saw, barreling towards you, that abominable dart.
So hurry little lion man, before it’s too late, run and save your heart.

Dark, shattered thoughts

Darkness is pulling me down, down
Reminders of misery knock on my door
they pound, they pound
Effecting me greatly, shaking my core
Breathe in, breathe out
A thousand sharp knives impale,
stab in the heart and make me shout
Futily resisting the crimson trail
A hand of evil pressing down on my chest
Letter from Death, unwanted guest
Mind feeling heavy, heavy as lead
Feel a chill in my bones, unsettled
Inevitable pain, vision red
Feeling angered, sorrowed, nettled
Thoughts are jumbled, soul is torn
Cling to love, my surroundings adorn


Wet lips touching
Skin feeling skin
Battling tongues,
Desire for release, need
Emotions spilling over
Blood rushing
Adoration of anatomy
Joining of souls
Salty skin
Rush of ecstasy