bits & pieces to soak in.
all © samantha rose, except the header photo belongs to Gabby Edquilang
tags: announcements, asks, audio, blurbs, creative nonfiction, edited, excerpt, haiku, inspiration, poetry, prose, ramblings, repost, short story.
other writers:
• Afieya
• Nivet
• Alfred
• Nina Semen
• Todd
• Constance
• Tyler Knott
• Collin
• What I'm Reading
The promise of palm trees, and the naive temptations of being a “hollywood star,” swept me up with the winds and left me stranded alone out in the driest deserts under the hottest Christian sun.
Parched. I was begging for water.
Dumb. I went for the oceans.
Rescued. I found knowledge and drowned in its waves.Screaming for justice,
swallowing idealogies,
and choking on my anonymity:
I found myself in the arms of queer feminist activism.
Who knows what real good I am doing?
I will never again be fooled into thinking that I’m a “good person.”I’m far from good.
In fact, I am gorged with selfishness.
And I’m coming to terms with this tragic realization every day.
It’s every wo/man for themselves and the sooner we admit it
the closer we step towards freedom.Surrounded by individualism,
and tacky white girl fashionistas,
I cried until there were no more tears.
(And I learned that tears don’t save the world.)Lost in a sea of ugly,
delusional, self-absorbed
people, I shook hands with loneliness and uncoiled my hopes.Above all this beautiful bullshit,
I finally found some gems,
glistening on the sidewalks
as they cat-walked into my life;
looking me in the eye and bristling
with authentic empathy.——It really is excruciating,
extracting my foundations
and rebuilding them with wet clay and uncertainty:
I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in grace.
I don’t believe in soul mates or eternity or even
unconditional love.Friendships fray by degree and I know now that I’m not stupid.
A few years make a difference. They are all it takes to rip apart sanity and shred your soul in two.
i spend my life
clinging to moments
nostalgiamind
it gives me panic
to think i may forget
the moments
and people i hold dear
panic relieves
when i realize
this is a happy worry
to have
you affect
me more
in words,
one look
than he does
with his entire
body
“We lose ourselves in the things we love. We find ourselves there, too.” — Kristin Martz
After a long night of inebriation with friends, colleagues, and nobodies — Angela retreated to her bedroom. As she got closer to the static mattress in the haze of smoke and bubbles, her eyes fell on his shirt from the dawn. Their time apart had not been endured long, but she missed him as a lost child missed a parent. She decided to sleep in his white shirt with a logo on it: green letters “LRG” and a giraffe, for comfort of her first lonely night in some time.
She pulled off her own gray sweatshirt, pulled her arms loose of a white tank top, and peeled off the lace bra that was too tight. Imprints were left in her creamy dark skin. She squeezed her breasts that had been pressed tightly to her body for hours, allowing them to breathe again. Despite the purpose, her mind still lingered to thoughts of his large hands or his warm, sensuous lips dancing upon them.
She missed him and she didn’t want to admit it. She missed him and couldn’t tell him.
Angela noticed that thoughts changed from nerves to desire when she was no longer afraid of the love she craved. He turned to stone as if she were Medusa — the snakes of her mind cut loose, made their way to become her sharp tongue destined to paralyze all of his senses. Really all they wanted were to swallow the love he refused to give even at the high price she paid.
She pulled the shirt over her head and inhaled for his scent. It was much larger than she and she pulled it close against her body. Images of his face were like paintings in her eyelids. His piercing eyes and his bright smile, hair she loved to run her fingers through when it was clean and soft cheeks she caressed when she felt most in love with the drug of his charms. Immediately the shirt, soft and warming once it wrapped her, felt like an embrace, a smile, and a kiss from him.
His charms. He was the snake, not she. She was the one at risk of getting bit. He used them cleverly and she always knew, but not once addressed it until it was too late.
I felt safe with you
Safe from others
Yet not safe from you
When summer swims back
In the pool of my reflections
I see us at the water
Enjoying each other(s playfulness)
Laughing at the others
who were quiet, sullen in each other’s presence
I don’t understand where or why we went wrong
Blame falls on you
Though I am far from perfection
What is your fault is your lack of change, how selfish you are
That you wouldn’t adjust for me
When I bent every which way
For you
I wake
Early
Surrounded by a symphony of birds
Flashbacks to high school
Mornings before school starts
Frost on the grass, early students
Filing in slow
Fog fills the bay air
Dances between branches of sycamore trees
Stand around in the cold while we wait
It’s a time I miss mostly for its atmosphere
The few people I hung around for
As I lay
Waking to the bird symphony
I think it’s funny how something so small
Can take us back so quickly.
i love how home feels
crisp dew in the morning time
dark redwood trees
dark any-kind-of-trees
greenery surrounds
the fog drowns
sits like nostalgia
in my mind
warm in the sun
chill in the shade
i retract for better days
mind observant, active as always
with much more calm
much more quiet
i had much less to prove
and felt no harm
cherry lips glow
like your lips in snow,
and the chill
rode slow
to our bones.
within the marrow,
love evaporated…
but condensation
is created again, i know
(via burningmuse)
