Detective

            I walk up to the giant wooden doors. Brass knocker, looking like gargoyles, hang just above my head. I look to my left and see a button for the doorbell and press it. An older gentleman dressed in a suit opens the door.

                        “May I help you?” he drones.

                        “My name is Ember Gilmoore. I am here to see Mr. Caesarea,” I reply.

                        “Come in.”

            I walk past the man and marvel at the house before me. The marble stairs rose before me. The wood banister curled with the twist of the stairs. When my eyes reached the top they fall upon deep black matte loafers. As my eyes drift up I scan across slate grey slacks, shiny onyx belt, and a burnt orange shirt unbuttoned at the top.

                        “Miss Gilmoore how can I help you?” he asks descending the stairs.

                        “I am here about Milo Vasquez.”

                        “What about him?”

                        “He’s dead.”

                        “I am aware Miss Gilmoore. What is your point?”

                        “Did you do it?” I ask.

He smirks slyly at me then turns and heads into what appears to be a den.

Neverland

So I have been on this Disney kick lately and a lot of my poetry has been reflecting it. This one came about listening to Avril Lavinge's Never Grow Up. It made me think of Neverland and Peter Pan.

Remember us?

The actual us,

Before the hormones took over.

When it was music and video games.

When life was nothing but fun.

We were lost in young.

I never though we'd lose that.

I never thought we'd grow up.

You were Peter Pan and I was Tinker Belle.

You believed in me and I in you.

You clapped hard and kept me and the faeries alive.

We were on a constant ride.

Second star to the right.

To Neverland with endless adventure.

But you left one night,

And when you came back... Wendy.

You stopped believing,

The clapping died down.

The dream was over.

I traded my faerie wings for real life,

And by the time you came back, the faeries had died.

Here's a link to the song that inspired the work:

Never Growing Up

Who you are

I was listening to Jessie J's "Who You Are" and it mad me think back to the time in my life when my eating disorder ruled my life. It kinda hit home. We all have scars, bumps, bruises, and pasts that don't make life the easiest journey. At then end of the day though its all about who you are.

 Who You Are

     I look in the mirror

What do I see?

I see flaws, imperfections

Staring at me.

So today I'll suck on ice cubes

And run off everything I eat.

Starving makes me pretty, right?

Or so they say at least.

But now I lack the energy,

To breathe or even think.

I don't have the strength

To create the voice that I need.

The one that cries for help,

The one that knows I'm not ok.

But the help comes from unexpected places,

And the strength eventually returns.

I'm back on my own two feet now.

And am safe in my own skin.

The battle is a daily struggle.

But this is a war I'll win.