Saturday, June 30, 2012

deaf songbird sing

she only sings when nobody else can hear her,
like the lone tree that falls in a forest with no one
around to notice the sound,
and sometimes she wonders if she is really making
something worthwhile emerge from her lips, something
that maybe someone will call beautiful.

her whole world is a sound-proof box
that keeps the sound out and silence in as she
motions with her hands to speak and watches with
her eyes to listen, but sometimes she will
open her mouth like a songbird and sing without
knowing what her song sounds like, without knowing
if it is beautiful.

sound has never been heard by her ears
and sometimes she wonders if it exists, wonders
if the words she thinks she is humming
are even leaving her lips because she is too afraid
of disappointment to ask with her hands
if she can make a beautiful sound with her lips.

Friday, June 29, 2012

lasts

there are so many lasts;
last songs
last kisses
last steps
last smiles
last gifts
last words
last breaths
last heartbeats
 
and i don't think i really noticed until you and i had our lasts;
last gift
last hug
last kiss
last words
in the last moments of the last time that i saw you until you took your
last breath and your heart beat one last time and you died with your last smile
still shining on your face.
 
you see, i miss you more everyday and i thought that it might
not hurt so much a year later, but it does
and i can't help but cry at night as i hold the last gift you gave me;
a bright yellow stuffed animal duck named ducky because i thought that
your pool cleaner was a duck when really it was a turtle
and that was the last time we laughed together.
 
when we had our last laugh together and our last words
i didn't know they were going to be our last
and when i said goodbye to you that night i meant it as
"goodbye i'll see you next summer when i turn 16"
not
"goodbye forever i'll see you in heaven"
and when you said goodbye to me it was the same, but i think
that you might have known that our hugs and kisses would be
our last and that those words would be the last we spoke together
and that stuffed animal duck named ducky would be the last gift you gave me.
 
its a little over a year later and i keep thinking about our lasts
and think about how everyone has their lasts and wonder
what my lasts are going to be.
_____________________________________________
 
this is dedicated to my aunt who passed away a little over a year ago. i miss her so much.

paper-thin

she has this obsession, this unwavering desire
to become so paper-thin that her skin is just a thin layer stretched
across her brittle bones
because she wants to be as breakable on the outside
as she is on the inside
and she wants to be beautifully paper-thin like the girls that
seem to have everything tucked into the small back pocket
on their size 00 jean shorts.

she wants to be like the girls in their bikinis
that stretch out their beautifully thin bodies across
warm sand on california beaches with eyes closed, pretending
that they don't notice the gaze of the teenaged boys walking by
because she isn't noticed by anyone but her best friend who isn't even real,
just a figment of her imagination that never faded away
when she reached high school and realized that nobody wanted
to be friends with the fat girl.

and look at her now, look at her brittle bones and skin stretched
paper-thin across them as she starves herself for that perfect image
in her mind that, to her, is
perfection.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

love drunk

i'm so lovesick i'm wasted,
with a pounding headache and an uneasy stomach
and i think that i might have just drank a little too much
last night when i was with you, you are my
alcohol.
[and i know that isn't really a compliment, but i can't help it
because that is what you are and always will be you see, you and me
are something that doesn't fit together like teenagers
and alcohol, you make me sick like beer on a friday night at a frat party
without even trying and i think that i just might be addicted.]
 
and i'm hungover from all of the love
that i was drinking last night when i was with you and you
didn't even look at me once, didn't even bother to say a simple "hello"
and i went home and cried myself to sleep because it hurt so much,
my eyes were bloodshot and empty and when i woke up i thought that maybe
you really are my alcohol because, damn, i looked
drunk.
[i acted drunk too, my speach was slurred and my legs unsteady
and everyone thought that maybe i did drink, maybe the good little christian girl
actually did go to a party and get drunk,
i wouldn't tell them that they were wrong.]
 
its funny because when i got home that night, smelling like beer
and pot smoke my mother didn't even notice and i think it might have been
because i didn't smell like beer or pot smoke,
i smelt like you,
my drink of choice and i spent another night with a headache and a stomach
that decided it didn't want anything in it anymore
while my mother joined my father in front of the tv and they cuddled,
nestled their bodies together and i knew that one time
she got drunk off him too and i wonder if he knows and i think he just might
because, damn, their marriage is like a wall of unbreakable diamond.
[i'm afraid that i am always going to be stuck in a life where i go out
to friday night frat parties and get drunk on you,
feel so lovesick that i'm wasted and make everyone think that maybe, just maybe
i am actually drunk.]
 
and its funny how i think about us in metaphors because
they are unreal and we are unreal and this world keeps telling me
to go get drunk, but i don't know how much real alcohol my body can handle
if it can barely handle
you.

first love [late summer nights, or was it early morning?]

it's late at night
[or is it early morning?]
and i can't sleep and i don't know why and i think that
maybe it is because it is summer and during the summer i always think of
you
and how we used to talk to each other
until two and then my dad caught me and we couldn't
talk anymore except for during the day, but we still
stayed up until the morning thinking about each other and dreaming
about each other if we did slip into a short nap that turned into
a three hour nap that made us late for swim practice at six and we would
laugh if we missed it and call each other and bike to that old playground
and sit next to each other on the swings and hold hands and you tried to
kiss me and i turned away that one time because i was scared, but then
my parents put their foot down and forbade me from dating you
and i broke up with you and then i couldn't kiss you but i did anyway
when we both were taken, but we didn't care because i know i never
really got over you and i think you might have never really gotten over me
and now i'm still awake in the early morning in the summer;
subconsciously waiting for you to text me or chat me on facebook
[but i know you won't]
and thinking about how i don't think i ever really got over you.

level 9 earthquake on the richter scale

i hate the idea of forever
 
and i may be the only person who trembles when someone mentions
eternity or infinity or forever and when those christian ministers
mention heaven,
but i do tremble, well actually
i quake;
like my body is the earth
and has just been struck by a level 9 earthquake on the richter scale
with houses collapsing in and mountains imploding while oceans are
exploading and people are screaming, screaming so loud that i can
hear it in my ears, ringing
like a million church bells on sunday morning while my heart
skips like a little girl and her friends playing double dutch on a saturday
afternoon and her mom is watching with a smile, but i'm not smiling
because my body is quaking like it has just been struck
by a level 9 earthquake on the richter scale.
 
i don't know why my body trembles
[quakes]
so much at the mention of forever, but i much prefer
to be stuck here in today and not give a damn
about what will happen tomorrow.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

slipping through her fingers

her hair used to fall around her shoulders in little waves like
fiery water and now it is slipping through her fingers
like air as it falls to the ground, she can't
stop it, she can only watch as her once precious hair
becomes a pile of nothing on the carpet
and she can't help but
cry.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

half-open window [original song]

so i've been dabbling in song writing recently after a friend of mine asked me to write lyrics for his band because a song i wrote about a year ago they ended up using and really liked. this is what came of about 2 days of writing, crossing out, re-wording, and humming the melody in my head. hope you like it! ~Tya
 
verse one:
just a boy, living in a high flying world
with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
introduce a girl,
the girl he always wanted
with a simple cross necklace and an addiction to
slipping away through half-open windows
on late nights,
the moon as her only witness.
 
chorus:
and she is slipping, slipping away
his eyes are filled with stars,
he can't see her fading in his arms
because the lies they hide between them
outshine the truth that is
in the half-open window with a lingering scent of
her.
 
verse two:
he spent his time imagining a happy ending,
she spent hers planning how to slip off into the night
through the half-open window in his oddly caring heart
that didn't seem to fit with his ripped jeans and faded tees
and scratchy cigarette smoke coated voice.
 
chorus.
 
verse three:
the only thing she left behind was a wisp
of pine trees and early morning coffee
and a broken heart.
he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't speak
and he ceased smelling of cigarettes because he threw
them away with his ripped jeans and faded tees,
she had taken his spirit with her when she
slipped out of his heart in the middle of the night,
the moon as her only witness.
 
she was slipping, slipping away
and his eyes were filled with stars,
he couldn't see her fading in his arms
until she had completely
disappeared.

sunburns and rainy days

somedays sunburns are my release and sunshine is my peace
when i curl up under an old oak tree
and read the words on the pages that hold me here
on this earth while my thoughts stray elsewhere, to places
where death is just a nightmare and pain doesn't exist.
 
and lately i've been trying to sit in the sun more but the rain
has made it impossible to do anything but cry when i just
want to smile and laugh and live this life that for some reason
that i do not understand was given to me to make something of it
and when i die i want to be able to offer up a life that is like a polished gem,
priceless in everyway.
 
today i got a sunburn as i searched for peace in sunshine and oak trees
and words on pages that tie me to this world while
my mind is off in a distant land where you are still here and the scars
do not exist anymore because i've been healed by the grace
of the sunshine and the rainy days that made me cry
when i just wanted to hold it inside.

anxiety

there is this thing, you see, this thing
that makes your heart stop and your words get stuck and your stomach
drops into the depths of a black hole and your lungs forget to breathe and you
can't seem to stand upright and everything feels like it has been dropped on your
shoulders and you feel like you may just puke up your tiny little lunch
and it's called
 
anxiety.
 
and it sucks.
because you can't give award winning speaches and the thought of
being with large groups of people makes you hyperventilate and you
can't tell anyone, you can't admit that you can't seem to function
in social situations or when you have to go
stand in a bathroom stall and somehow remember how to breathe for
ten minutes too long.
 
you see, i've got this little thing that makes it impossible to eat
at a friend's house or go to parties or stand in front of a crowd or travel
in any car other than one with my family
and it's called
 
anxiety.
 
and i pretend that everything is fine when my stomach is
dropping and i think i might puke and i don't know if i can handle it.
sometimes i even try to pretend that i am normal and maybe that is why
i don't tell anyone that i can't seem to function like a normal human being
because i don't like admitting weakness and i feel so weak.
so when i go travel with my friend and her family tomorrow
i'm going to pretend that my stomach isn't dropping and i have momentarily
fogotten how to breathe and hope and pray that it isn't so bad
that i actually DO puke and admit my weakness, my secret disease
 
anxiety.

solid ground [a love song]

she carried him away on the wings of her voice,
wrapped the words around him and made them
weightless
so they could lift him up and bring him to her cloud,
floating ever so far away in the ever so dark night;
 
except for the stars.
 
she didn't want to be alone anymore, she couldn't
keep humming the sad tune to the song that broke
her heart and built a wall,
and a cloud,
that kept her away from the rest of the world.
 
she sang him up to her cloud
where they could be alone with only the stars
and he gave her a ring, asked her to come down with him,
but the sad song she sang wouldn't let her go
so he stayed on her cloud and taught her
to hum happy songs, sang her down from her cloud
where his deep song and her high melody
kept them together on solid ground.
 
the writer's note that sometimes appears before or after these things:
i know, there isn't really a chorus or separate verses, it is more like a poem, but i wrote it as a song for a friend of mine. the tune [if you were wondering] is soft and slow, played on a piano [i was listening to my friend play a classical piano piece when i wrote this] and is mostly higher notes. in my head there is a piano solo in the beginning and middle[ish]. this can also technically be played on an acoustic guitar.

leaving this town

hurry up my dear, i'm packing my bags and leaving this
god forsaken town
filled with a past i don't want to remember and people i want
more than anything to forget.
 
you see, i can't stay here anymore, i can't
live in this place where i made so many mistakes
and had to pay for them all, i want to get away from 
all of the secrets and the stories and the lies
that have created a person i don't want to be, a person
i hate to be.
 
i'm packing my bags and ditching this town, i'm leaving
you behind with everyone else
and don't be offended when you never hear from me again
because you are part of a past that i'm eager to forget.
 
i want to be someone else, someone i'm proud of being
and i don't want the lies and secrets anymore, i can't stand the
pretending like everything will be fine if i just stay a little longe,
it won't, i know that and you know that, but you can't
seemt to admit it.
 
everyone here knows the me i hate and hates the me i love;
the me that is head over heels in love with a boy and doesn't like girls,
the me that is actually pretty goddamn smart and wants to sing her own songs.
 
i'm sorry i've lied to you for so long, but i don't like girls like that
[i never have, even a little bit]
and i'm sorry i led you on and made you think that maybe we had a chance
because we don't, i'm in love with the man of my dreams but he doesn't know
i exist and that is okay, when i leave this town i'm leaving him too.
 
so this is goodbye, i'm packing my bags and cutting my hair,
i'm going blonde because red is too noticable and i don't want to be noticed
or found when i slip away to another place
where i am nothing more than just a name and a face, nothing more.
 
i don't want to be known as me anymore,
i want to recreate myself.

how she fell

part one: elementary school
"sticks and stones may break my bones
but words can never hurt me"
she sang, sang while they
called her ugly and fat and weird-looking, she sang it
when they called her retarded and stupid and dumb
to convince herself that they were just words, they have
no meaning.
 
part two: middle school
"sticks and stones may break my bones
but words can never hurt me"
she chanted to herself while walking
alone through crowded hallways, chanted as they
called her worthless and fake and self-centered
because she didn't want it to hurt as much as it did.
 
part three: high school
she changed her look and lost some weight,
and she whispered to herself, tried to convince herself that
"sticks and stones may break my bones
but words can never hurt me"
while they called her a slut and a whore and a bitch,
when she walked alone among her peers.
 
part four: when she fell
she stopped her singing and chanting and whispering
because she stopped her life with a bottle of pills
when the words became too much,
 
she could heal her broken bones but not
her broken heart.

love drunk

i'm so lovesick i'm wasted,
with a pounding headache and an uneasy stomach
and i think that i might have just drank a little too much
last night when i was with you, you are my
alcohol.
[and i know that isn't really a compliment, but i can't help it
because that is what you are and always will be you see, you and me
are something that doesn't fit together like teenagers
and alcohol, you make me sick like beer on a friday night at a frat party
without even trying and i think that i just might be addicted.]
 
and i'm hungover from all of the love
that i was drinking last night when i was with you and you
didn't even look at me once, didn't even bother to say a simple "hello"
and i went home and cried myself to sleep because it hurt so much,
my eyes were bloodshot and empty and when i woke up i thought that maybe
you really are my alcohol because, damn, i looked
drunk.
[i acted drunk too, my speach was slurred and my legs unsteady
and everyone thought that maybe i did drink, maybe the good little christian girl
actually did go to a party and get drunk,
i wouldn't tell them that they were wrong.]
 
its funny because when i got home that night, smelling like beer
and pot smoke my mother didn't even notice and i think it might have been
because i didn't smell like beer or pot smoke,
i smelt like you,
my drink of choice and i spent another night with a headache and a stomach
that decided it didn't want anything in it anymore
while my mother joined my father in front of the tv and they cuddled,
nestled their bodies together and i knew that one time
she got drunk off him too and i wonder if he knows and i think he just might
because, damn, their marriage is like a wall of unbreakable diamond.
[i'm afraid that i am always going to be stuck in a life where i go out
to friday night frat parties and get drunk on you,
feel so lovesick that i'm wasted and make everyone think that maybe, just maybe
i am actually drunk.]
 
and its funny how i think about us in metaphors because
they are unreal and we are unreal and this world keeps telling me
to go get drunk, but i don't know how much real alcohol my body can handle
if it can barely handle
you.