MidnightMelodie

lost in space

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Pacific Lullaby by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

Pacific Lullaby

The heaters started rattling ever since you left here to go west trading coastlines I forgot to ask that you send me a postcard, so I will send you one. I will send you the sky tonight over Massachusetts; deep blue with clouds covering patches of stars- I have lost the moon in their billowing. I have stopped making my bed in the mornings. There is no point. I will crawl into bed at night, everything feeling the same as it did yesterday, like no time has passed, and pull the sheets up to my lips. I wonder what stars you can see from your window when you have turned out the lights and sit in the silence. (No, You will never become

The crash by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

The crash

Statistically speaking, you are more likely to die in a car crash than an plane crash and you are also less likely to die from a broken heart than you are from a car crash, or cancer , or a shark attack, or old age. These facts are always presented as surprising but true. But sometimes the statistics are wrong. Sometimes, when you find your body hurtling through the windshield, seat belt hanging uselessly next to the driver's seat, it is not the impact that kills you. It is not the shards of glass that cut at your skin- shinning thinly like surprised fireworks- it is his sweater, faded and frayed at the edges. It is his breakf

dichotomy by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

dichotomy

di•chot•o•my /dīˈkädəmē/ a division into two especially mutually exclusive or contradictory groups or entities I. Prescriptions Start here. Catch me dizzy. Vomiting in the bathroom, wiping the little mouth clean into a smile. I am fine. Emptying the stomach of all the prescriptions that floated like foreign spies in the sea of stomach acid. I should thank these martyrs for their service but I cannot keep them down, cannot keep them buried. What a grave to give them! It hardly seems honorable. But here I go again, pulling their small oval bodies up the pink throat with a rusty shovel, scra

Saturday Confessions by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

Saturday Confessions

Winter comes; constant as a promise, and leaves salt stains on the entryway floor. I am learning to think in cycles, but three years feels like a bit too long to wait for rain. Saturday. He is all thunder and lightening but my lips are dry as pavement. He is brooding wind and longs to carry me away with his heart but I am heavy as a stone. Love me he says, with eyes green like the sky before a tornado. But who can love a storm without joining the wreckage? Slowly he unwraps his scars; a silent plea for me to bandage them. I dare not show him my hands; they are still in the stage of bleeding- Three years. He would not want to see

three and a half years in Lyme Connecticut by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

three and a half years in Lyme Connecticut

Today I am trapped in Connecticut. It is a small state, the third smallest in the country and the fifth state to ratify the Constitution. It borders Massachusetts, New York, and Rhode Island and covers a mere 5,543 sq miles, but I am trapped in Connecticut today. Its slim frame has grown fat like a sleeping jailer; there is no hope of stretching- freedom filling the space between each vertebrae- to reach the border; it is still many months off. I sit by the window on the second floor; my legs heavy as tree trunks, rooted deep, and decay rattling in my spine. Connecticut is 379 years old, and I am just a blip on its timeline. Connect

minefield by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

minefield

My head is a minefield. You are deconstructing language out loud. What are words? My neck is a nest for hornets. You are picking apart syllables. You are asking me what we should have for lunch. I am not usually this angry, I resolve to tell you. But I realize that all the thorns and briers and swords are pointed inward, and I am glad to have spared you. Three years is the time it took to receive a diagnosis. You ask me what it is like. (Some days it is like hundreds of tiny knives housed in the crevices of my skull. Other days they are dancing across my face, lingering along my jaw...; blurry eyes and dizzy head- I cannot eat because i

postcards from Romania by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

postcards from Romania

She sends me a postcard from Romania- a place I know nothing about. The world is so big, and I so small that I can't possibly know everything. I read it while falling asleep and dream of his hands. The delicate lines, the freckle between his thumb and index finger. I dream of his hands because it is safer than dreaming of his smile, or his eyes, or his lips- then I risk getting attached. I will dream of his arms- no that is too dangerous. Just his shoulders then. But perhaps even that is a bit too risky. I will dream of the air that brushes his cheek and hope that she loves him with every cell in her body.

two frail ghosts by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

two frail ghosts

He calls me to come over. It's a dark night in mid January. He says come in and hangs my coat in the closet. I wasn't planning on staying but you can't argue with a coat hung in a closet. He walks in the other room to pour a cup of tea and I am afraid of being torn apart by this heart. He comes back in in silence, with face like the dark side of a mountain, before the sun has risen to warm it. We are just two frail ghosts. He speaks with a voice half broken and says, you are too beautiful to be this lonely. I don't tell him I've been hollow for years.

i'd rather not by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

i'd rather not

He is knee deep in salt water and trying not to get knocked over by the waves. I am ankle deep in cool sand; eyes closed, listening to the crashing water. Breathe in. Breathe out. He is knee deep in ocean water. I don't look at him. I try my hardest not to think of him, which means or course, he is the only thing on my mind. I have this dream where the sea becomes glass and we walk all the way out to the horizon; all the way to the end of the world. I think I feel him by my side but I can't turn my head to look. So maybe after all, he never left the shore. And when you reach the end of the earth, everything is that perfect horizon blu

don't by MidnightMelodie, literature

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Pacific Lullaby by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

Pacific Lullaby

The crash by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

The crash

dichotomy by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

dichotomy

Saturday Confessions by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

Saturday Confessions

three and a half years in Lyme Connecticut by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

three and a half years in Lyme Connecticut

minefield by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

minefield

postcards from Romania by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

postcards from Romania

two frail ghosts by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

two frail ghosts

i'd rather not by MidnightMelodie, literature

Literature

i'd rather not

don't by MidnightMelodie, literature

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About MidnightMelodie

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Artist // Student // Varied

Dec 18, 1992
United States
Deviant for 16 years
She / Her

Badges

Delicious Cake: My, that's a delicious cake (1)

My Bio

Current Residence: NewEngland
Favourite genre of music: varied
Favourite style of art: photography or poetry

Favourite Movies

Pride and Prejudice, Knight and Day

Favourite TV Shows

Castle, So You Think You Can Dance

Favourite Games

Final Fantasy X2

Other Interests

photography, listening to music, poetry, fashion, languages, sweets

Posts

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MidnightMelodie

Jan 23, 2015

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

"...    Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is      to watch the year repeat its days.      It is as if I could dip my hand down    into time and scoop up    blue and green lozenges of April heat      a year ago in another country.    I can feel that other day running underneath this one    like an old videotape—here we go fast around the last corner      up the hill to his house, shadows    of limes and roses blowing in the car window      and music spraying from the radio and him      singing and touching my left hand to his lips.    Law lived in a high blue room from which he could see the sea.  

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MidnightMelodie

Sep 4, 2014

The place that caught my heart

0 min read

I spent all of June and half of July studying in Spain this summer and it was an absolutely amazing experience. I really wish I could have stayed the whole semester or even the whole year. If you'd like to see more of my photographs and read a little about my trip you can visit my blog:  http://julie-elisephotography.blogspot.com/

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MidnightMelodie

Jan 23, 2013

Help me win a scholarship!

0 min read

Hello everyone! Please take just a moment and help me win a scholarship a scholarship by going to this http://www.diplomaframe.com/contests/frame-my-future-scholarship-contest-2013/details.aspx?&entryID=51753 . then you will see an  option to like it on facebook. As everyone knows college is expensive, so it would really help if you could vote for me! Thank you so much! :happybounce: