La Sang et La Lune

My mother always told me that when I'm bleeding with the moon, the moon and I should sob together at least once.

So that's what I'm doing tonight.

She's wiping the tears from my neck as I rock back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

She tries to comfort me with her subtle glow and quite words, but my screams and moans only make her feel worse.

I curse to her stars for the pain the sun puts me through.

The pain and heartbreak that ball of fire makes me endure is close to torture and I've just about had it.

So I continue to rock back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and I breathe.

I deep throat the cold and my lungs get sweet relief for just a moment.

The sun always reminds me of the people who don't give a shit that call themselves friends.

The sun always tends to bring up my ex and she may give off warmth but deep down she's a stone cold bitch.

The moon and I have a lot in common.

We both have to kindly reflect the light the sun gives off, but we both just want everyone to see our glow as our own, and not the reflection of another.

People don't pay much attention to us.

We may control how the tides kiss the shore but we don't know if the sea even has feelings for the sand.

We don't understand how everyone can love the sun when she always ends up burning those close to her and giving them skin cancer.

My screams have turned into whimpers and I don't know how to go numb but I want to.

The moon just holds me in the sheets and I wonder if she ever holds him too.

I don't know who he is and when I ask she refuses to tell me, she just tells me to be patient.

My mind is going blank and blurry and all I can make out is the glow in the dark and for now that's enough.

And we rock back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and

forth and back and forth and back and forth and ba ck  an d fort h a n d b a c k a n d f o r t h a n d b a


c  k  a  n  d  f  o  r  t  h  a  n  d  b  a  c  k  a  n  d  f  o  r  t  h  a  n  d  b  a   c   k   a   n   d   f     o     r       t



h          a          n             d                   b                         a                                    c                                      





                  k                                                                  a                                                                        n







                                                          d
                                                                          

no.16

I left my heart in San Francisco.

Literally, it’s hiding in one of the linen closets of an abandoned opera house.

As an only child, you learn to hide things from people because you always tend to open up to strangers because in reality, those are the only people in your life.
That's why I hid my heart.

Because if you knew what was happening inside that linen closet you would call me a spoiled brat once more, and you would walk away.

Yeah, maybe I am spoiled.

Spoiled on the love and pure devotion of parents that were told could never bare a child after six years of trying.
They were almost 40 when I appeared in my beautiful mothers womb.
Spoiled on the beautiful things of this world because my parents wanted to give me the globe by age 18.
Spoiled because my parents wanted me to feel beautiful, and because they new my talents at a young age.

So yes, I am spoiled with material items, but there is a story behind each one.

And yes, I am spoiled with love, because I was the only one to love.

I grew up in silence.

I grew up alone.

I grew up being called the "spoiled brat."

Sorry if the girl who was an only child who seemed to fit your stereotype was coming on too strong because the only thing she wanted in this world was a friend.
That was the only thing her parents couldn't give her, and it wasn't by choice.

It's my curse.

To be alone.

Whenever people are brave and enter my life, they always end up leaving the same night.
I'm to the point now where I don't tell them to take off their hat and coat because they'll be needing it in a moment or two.

The curse scares them away.
The curse causes me to get too attached and I can't help but show it because people deserve to know that they're loved and that their presence is wanted.

But I guess it's a social faux pas to be honest.








I don't even know why I'm telling you this.

Maybe I'm just saying this so you will walk in, take off your hat a coat, sit down on the couch and reassure me of my feelings for the night.




Your spoiled brat,
Charles Darnell

Industrial carpeting and brown leather chairs

I'm sitting in the lobby of a children's hospital, and everyone is smiling.
I don't know why, upstairs their children are dying.
Maybe they're smiling because their children are still here for now.
Or maybe they're smiling because they know they won't be for much longer.
Maybe they're smiling because they still can.

no.15

I vaguely remember my 5th birthday party. I guess it wasn't all that cool. I think we did karaoke to the Freaky Friday soundtrack, but I'm not sure.

But I am sure that at one point you liked me. I'm positive that I have a picture of you wearing a skirt and I remember you didn't make fun of me for wearing a purple velvet Barbie dress.

I think I remember getting a huge tattoo of a rose on my chest during spring break. I was feeling rebellious and my friend got one too. I'm pretty sure they didn't send Mikayla and I home when we showed up to school the next day.

I think I sent your mom an e-mail about how much I was in love with you a year after I left, but I'm not sure that she let you read it. I distinctly remember the e-mail she sent back the day after, and how she completely avoided the subject of my admiration and asked me how my parents were doing.

I bet one time at Meg's house her mom got tipsy and let me sleep over. I'm pretty sure she drove us to the movie rental and got us Pirates of the Caribbean. How am I alive?

I remember the guy who had the bread truck. But I can see clearly in my mind the image of you opening the bakery door for me and offering me pastries left and right. I can see Rachel now winking at me from across the room every time she caught me staring at you.

I think I used to sit out on the boulder in the backyard and watch the cruise ships go by. I think I used to imagine the parties happening on them, and wondering if the elderly were doing a conga line by the pool. I'm pretty sure they were, but who can tell from that distance.

I don't remember if your dad had a mustache then or not, but I thought it was so attractive to see you after hockey practice in a sweaty white t-shirt with your pads hanging out to dry. Do you remember the face your mom pulled when she realized it was me at the door? Well I do, and it was hilarious.

All I know is that the memories of you are crystal clear.

All I know is that I don't like your profile pic, because there is one too many people in it. 

All I know is that I still have dibs on being the pink power ranger. 

All I know is that I never shouldn't have left Mainview Terrace,

Charles Darnell

12/2/13

Cold skin on

cold fat on

cold muscles on

cold bones with 

cold blood pumping

through it all

This summer skin was 

soft and fat was

slim and muscles were

defined and bones were

strong and blood was 

warm

But that all changed in

September

The temperature dropped

slower than your self esteem

and you lost taste in brown 

hair, blue eyes and

collarbones

and I lost taste in mustaches

and being lied to

Your frost covered 

me and has kept

me alive

and I'm just sitting

here watching 

the hypothermia

set in on you

and you think 

the new warmth is 

saving you

How naive

Soon your skin

will be cold

and your fat

will be cold

and your muscles

will be cold

and your bones

will be cold

with cold regret

pumping 

through it all

I can't talk.... but Regina can

I feel the need to write, but when I put my fingers to the keyboard nothing happens.

I blame the kid who sat two seats in front of me to the left in fourth.

You better give me a copy of your notes from class. 

Because of you I couldn't concentrate.

....

I'll just let Regina do the talking.

You go my red-lipped queen,

Charles Darnell

a letter to my chest cavity

platonic love

 noun, often capitalized P

1

:  love conceived by Plato as ascending from passion for the individual to contemplation of the universal and ideal

2

:  a close relationship between two persons in which sexual desire is nonexistent or has been suppressed or sublimated

-Merriam Webster Dictionary

no.14

The Couch I Wish Caused a Divorce.

This couch represents my grandparents marriage.

They bought it the year they were married. A.K.A too many years old.

The floral print is worn out: like their love for each other.

The fabric is rough: like they way they abused their children.

It doesn't support your back: just like how they don't support themselves or anyone else.

It's a damn awful couch.