Unsaid

(Here's the thing I read in the meeting tonight, since I thought the "stream of conscious" bits might have been a little hard to understand since I was reading them so quickly.)

She says, “Geez I always burn these cupcakes.”

She never burned cupcakes they were always perfect with amazing icing she made from scratch and she made it with love or maybe she just wanted to impress her clients I don't know but when she baked me that cake for my graduation it was like heaven on a plate but then again she spent the whole time going on and on about how she couldn't wait to get out of this place.

I say, “They're not that burnt. There's still some mix leftover. We could make more.”

She says, “Well people won't mind too much I guess. Besides I've been in this kitchen for a while. I'd like to go sit down.”

She spent days in the kitchen it was all she did then again it was her job she had a job and she left and gave it all up and for what a better view out her kitchen window I wonder if she even has a working oven anymore I wonder if she bakes at all I doubt it she's too tired but she's happy she says tired but happy always tired but happy so happy to be away from here oh were we really that bad?

I say, “They won't mind. I think they look good.”

She says, “They do look good, don't they? A little bit of icing and they'll be too beautiful to resist!”

Beautiful beautiful how many times in my life have I ever been called that half of the time it was her telling me sitting me on her lap and telling me I was the most gorgeous little girl she ever saw telling me that I was beautiful all the time always beautiful outside and in even when I didn't want to believe it but she only talks about the eagles now only talks about the snow and how it shines on her window sill about the beauty of the land where was she when I needed to hear that the most even when she said it to me she was still thinking of the snow and how we will never compare.

I say, “Let's ice these puppies! When are people getting here?”

She says, “About an hour. We have time. And people will probably get here late anyway.”

What if she walked through that door right now what if she walked in and pretended everything could go back to the way it was like she never abandoned us like she never gave us up like we were nothing like she didn't choose the wide open frozen plains over her own family like I didn't have to pretend I couldn't here my mother crying when she never once asked how we were but instead just went on and on about how happy she was always happy always so happy never seeming to care if we were okay or not never seeming to care that we needed her.

I say, “Yeah we got time. Go sit. I'll clean this up.”

She says, “Gosh, this will be the first time we've had this much family in this little house. I hope it can handle it!”

Family family family do I ever consider her family do I dare consider her family when she shoved her goddamn happiness down our throats at every turn until we choked on her manifest destiny can I consider her family after all the times she's called us the villains, called us vile, called us manipulative and selfish when all we do is give and all she does is take and pretend she's giving no I can't I just can't she's not family I don't care how many times she called me beautiful that doesn't make family and I don't need her to tell me to know that she was right.

I say, “Guess you're right.”

She pauses, and then says, “Your aunt called earlier. She says hi.”

I don't care what she says I don't care she's happy she says she loves us she says I don't care at all I'll never can care how can I when she doesn't no I don't care at all she can eat her own damn cupcakes and spend her days looking out her window because the view is the only thing she'll call beautiful because I won't let her say it to me anymore no not anymore she can't talk to me like she's family because I don't need her poison no I don't care that she called and if she ever comes around I'll shove these cupcakes into her arms and tell her to go back to her snowy mountain view because it's where she wants to be anyway she doesn't want to be around here anymore.

I say, “That's nice.”

Paper Covers Rock

If we were a game,

Our console wouldn’t need HD graphics

Dozens of handguns, grenades, or shields

We do not play deathmatches, but I yield

To you. To your clockwise quarter circle punch button

Special move.

To your T-virus busting, quick time event trigger finger

Hard pressed and pressing harder,

Making each bullet stronger

Until you’ve lost the life behind the screen

Died a million deaths, fragged a thousand more

Saved the princess and the toads at the end

Of a nine dungeon tour

Kept armies on the floor with your DPS

Beat the extra-hard computer at Windows Chess

And I have been impressed by less and less

Than this.

Love, let’s make a party.

I’ll be your elven priest

You can be the half-demon knight tank

We can play the pegs at Cracker Barrel

Black and red Checkers on the front porch at home

When your constitution gets low,

I’ll cast ‘Dinner and a Night Alone.’

You’ve always been too tough to cut into

But I know you’re not made of stone.

When we first met,

I covered up your rocky edges
With my flat-hand paper.
They wonder how the surly rock
Could ever be beaten by a wind-blown sheet
But I know for a fact
The rock writes with sediment
Outside the paper's wrapping lines

Until his jagged bones are smooth again,

The paper has a few prideful holes,

And they can love.

Without any clear victor.

This Thing Called Redemption

(Ummm...I made a thing? Critique is appreciated. I'm kind of still working on it. :3)

There’s this thing called redemption
And it feels like a song.
It vibrates on your nerves
And makes you want to stretch your wings
And sing
Just for a ache of it.

This thing called redemption
Makes grown men weep
And angels keep their halos
Clutched tight against their chests
For fear that they’ll be ripped 
From them 
If they dare to fly too close to it.
But it shines
And bids them come
Despite the cold
And rain
Outside 

This thing called redemption
Sends gods plummeting to earth
To walk among the demons
That dare call themselves human
And pulls the dead from their caskets
To let them go another round,
Because we’re not done yet, they say
We’ve got some fight left in us
And we’ve got business that needs finishing
Before we rest for good.

This thing called redemption
Is an act of God
And an act of man
Both bound together into something ferocious.
It makes you shake
And shiver in your boots

Because this thing called redemption
Is the song of angels and humanity,
Of ice and blazing fire,
Of gods and their creations,
And it’s terrifying
And mystifying
And hauntingly powerful.
It leaves marks on your flesh and your soul
That will never go away
No matter how hard you scrub.
It stays with you always,
This thing called redemption.

Maybe it was there all along
Lying in wait like a shadow-bound predator
Or a watchful guardian.
Because this thing called redemption
Lives within our very souls
But we can’t think to name it that
When we feel it,
Because we can’t believe it,
Because we know we don’t deserve it
Even if we do.

So when this thing called redemption
Blazes to life within us
We take a breath
And hold it tight
And call it love instead.