Antaura Dawn
I’m an aspiring young writer in the midst of writing a couple books, and looking for inspiration :)
Antaura Dawn
I’m an aspiring young writer in the midst of writing a couple books, and looking for inspiration :)
I’m an aspiring young writer in the midst of writing a couple books, and looking for inspiration :)
I’m an aspiring young writer in the midst of writing a couple books, and looking for inspiration :)
A mother loves the face she’s meant to love I’ve heard The cracks and furrows and dips and dimples I wondered if you loved me more when I was small and my skin was Soft and smooth and unblemished with no pain or fear My rolls were dumpling folds and my eyes crinkled in a way you thought was adorable not ugly. A monster loves only the ones she’s hurt I fear How I wished for your love when I was growing and my knees were not knobbly but strong And my shoulders broad like the sloping planes of a savannah Nobody ever called me ugly but nobody called me pretty either I pinched and prodded at my flab when i was eight and ran for miles in the park My heart beating out of its chest as you praised me for being fit. I wonder if you’ve forgotten that I am strong. That I used to play for the track team and made varsity for shot put because I can throw With my big strong legs and my biceps that swell. But the scales tick higher and my stomach still flabs out in pieces when i wear a dress Do you look at me with disgust, or recognition? You’ll never apologize for anything you do because it’s never your fault But I wish you’d apologize for Whenever I hugged a friend and sucked my stomach in because otherwise They’d think I was disgusting. I have always been perfectly smart for you and you tell everyone else how smart I am That I’m highly gifted I can read four times faster than the average person I’m smart I’m smart But when I look at the other girl I can only think that maybe I’d sacrifice some of that for a stomach that looked good in dresses. A mother is never supposed to hate their child Then why do you hate me? I’m younger than you, don’t you know Barely sixteen but sometimes it feels like I’m ten again with those big knees and eyes That never crinkled like you liked them to. I know it’s never your fault, mama, but I hope you’ll at least cry If you found my body in the shower with my wrists cut bleeding Cry for the baby you once had and cry for the girl you lost. Or maybe you’d like me more that way dead I wouldn’t bother you anymore and my body would seep into the earth And nature would take me fat skinny or pretty.
the next day on the news
we will hear about the bus crash in california
we will not know of the mother who hugged her baby to her chest
the old couple that kissed for the last time
the young man that kept his eyes wide open
the small girl that flew into the window
we will see the numbers
and our day will carry on just a bit more dampered.
Promise me that you’ll get it for me. You’re going out, I know you can remember me while you’re gone. Promise me that you’ll say it for me. You’ll see her there, maybe you’ll see her face in mine. Promise me that you’ll remember to say goodnight before you go. You’re going to sleep, but I’ll lay awake if you don’t. Promise me to remember when I tell it. You’re going to hear me, after all; eyes wide and pleading for you to look. Promise me to hug me today. You’re going to forget today, but maybe tomorrow. and I promise I’ll kiss you tonight. A featherlight touch on the lips, so invisible sometimes you’ll wonder if I’m real. Then; you’ll wake up and you’ll feel so lucky. I’m right there, and you can hold my porcelain skin and we can kiss like lovers do, under the streetlights like born of paint.
This is not a poem, more an introspective. I’m trying something new :)
Dear Whoever You Are,
If you never do anything for the rest of your life, just know that you have saved one. I was biking to the bridge on my old, red bike. It still has the scars of when I yanked the training wheels off as a little eight-year old, desperate to be biking for real. I remember tracing my hands over the scars. The bike had nobody left to care about it. It could come with me. The bridge? Golden Gate, to be specific. There was traffic at this time, strange, unreasonable, clustered traffic that made my knees tremble as I pedaled harder. So many people, but I was so, so alone. I got off my bike. I can still feel the cigarette burn sting against the back of my throat. My fingers moved like lead as they fumbled with my helmet clasp. The night air was cold. Cut through my clothes like a knife. But I didn’t care anymore. Why would I? The traffic was getting worse. Flashing lights, beeps, honks, tarnishing the still air. Windows opened, voices screamed, people shook their heads and flipped each other off. So much power in so many voices. What great sound they had made in that moment, for something as simple as road rage. I thought numbly if that voice could ever be used for anything that mattered. I took a deep breath. The edge was right there. I wasn’t an idiot. Why couldn’t I do it? Nobody in this life cared about me. Nobody would bat an eye if I died, right here, right now. Well, maybe my mother would care. She’d sit by my portrait she’d have hung up above our mantle, cry a few tears, and move on. My mother is not sentimental. When things are done, they are done, and there is no reason to grieve over something long lost. My father wouldn’t care. He’d come to my funeral, his face red, his eyes puffy, his voice broken, but deep down, he wouldn’t care. My father has always been soft, but only for my mother. He wasn’t built to be a parent, never was. I couldn’t blame him for not caring about something that just took up space. Maybe my brother could care. He hasn’t even looked at me since he’s gone to college. I know he cares. I’ve heard his voice when he talked about me, sweet and saccharine and dripping with warmth. He loved me. But it’s been so long, and when I think of his face, it comes up as a blurry photo. I am like my mother in that way. He is gone. There is no reason to grieve over someone long lost. I am long lost. This bridge isn’t an ultimatum, or a catalyst, or anything else fancy - it’s the end. On the other side of this bridge is the unknown. I do not know if I’m willing to face it. That night, you honked at me. You could have chosen to honk at the old lady moving like a snail in front of you, or shout at the guy next to you blowing smoke out his window, but you looked at me and decided to make me miserable that day. You looked right at me and shouted, “Either jump off or bike away! We don’t need another blockage on the road today!” I was startled at the sound of your harsh voice. You looked at me with cold, stern eyes. I couldn’t see even a hint of pity, empathy. Just…annoyance. And I could see another face. A small girl in the backseat, gazing at me with moony blue eyes. At that moment, I realized that if I jumped off today, I wouldn’t be long lost. I would be remembered. By you. By that child. If even for only a moment, for a month, for a year; I would be remembered and alive. I couldn’t do that. Not in front of her, not in front of you, not in front of anyone. I couldn’t do it if someone was looking. That was it. Someone looked. Someone saw. Someone noticed, and suddenly I was filled with a rush of hot shame, and all I wanted to do was run. So I ran. I grabbed my bike and swung myself onto the seat. I caught a glimpse of fleeting relief in your eyes. It wasn’t for me. The traffic had just cleared. You zoomed away without another moment’s hesitation. That night, my brother came back from college. He caught me by the arm and asked me where I had been. He looked me, in the eyes, and his eyes were the same dull blue as that girl’s had been, and suddenly my stomach was twisting and I was crying in his arms. So, thank you. Stranger. Passenger. Driver. You didn’t intend to save a life. But you did. So…thank you? I will never meet you again. You will probably forget about this letter in a week. I just wanted to know, I will never forget you. How could I forget the man that had saved my life?
Sincerely, Citizen
Luke’s mouth was burning. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his eyes, relishing in the cold darkness for a moment as he leaned his forearms on the steering wheel. Everything felt dark and gloomy. The liquor store was ringing again, and Luke didn’t have the willpower to put it on hold. With a deep sigh of guilt, he started up his car, the rickety old vehicle churning to life, headlights blinking tiredly as it trudged down the road. What would have she said, if she knew she was going back? Probably scold him, knowing her. Luke, you swore that you would quit. You promised yourself. It’s destroying you. If Luke could still see her in front of him, he would chuckle, humorlessly, and say, “You already destroyed me. What more could it possibly do?” It was four years. Today marked four years. Four years ago, the love of his life had walked out on him. Luke swore, hitting the wheel with the palm of his hand. It startled forward, letting out a surprised honk. “Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning forward, black greasy hair falling flat on his pale forehead. The lights were too bright, and everything felt fuzzy and static, the way it always got when he went like…this. His car slowed to a stop, and he looked up, unsure how long he had been driving for. The bar, with its blinding lights and terrible rave songs, was on full blast. For a moment, Luke could lose himself in the lives of all these people, like a hivemind, high off the feeling of being lonely but not alone anymore. He could chug beers until he was so tipsy he would collapse on the pavement and snore the night away. He could lose himself in another life, even if it was just for a night. His stomach rumbled, twinging with pain. What had he last eaten? He couldn’t remember. Getting wasted without getting a few bites in wasn’t good for anyone. He stumbled towards the diner next to the bar. It was small and the sign was ripped. The paint on the door was flaky, but as he walked in he felt a ripple of warmth wash over him. The lighting was dim enough to not be painful, but still glowed softly so he could see. The only sound was the quiet humming of the barista and the funky indie song playing over the little radio. Cautiously, he slid into a booth. The barista didn’t acknowledge him, just continuing to nod and hum along to the beat. She was the sort of girl that Luke would have tried to flirt with. But it was the ungodly hour of one AM, and nobody deserved a sleep-deprived version of him. He slumped back in the booth, the springs creaking under the weight of his back. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the darkness comforting in a way. Nobody tried to approach him, to ask him what was wrong. He was grateful. He had never tried to explain himself to another person. His only friends left were his bar friends. The most they had ever done for him was rig designated driver on nights when he was especially lost in the past. Which…counted something. He looked up at the waitress again. She had started to sway to the song, twirling around the broom with a graceful sort of clumsiness about her. The chunky mushroom choker she was wearing accented her red and black plaid sweater perfectly. Her eyeliner was a soft yellow, like it was made of sugared moonlight. She seemed familiar, like someone he had once known. Maybe, if the night was younger, and they weren’t the only two in the diner, lost in their own little worlds, he would strike up a conversation with her. Learn about her story and where she had gotten that yellow eyeliner. Then, he could take it and become her, dancing alone in a bar with nobody listening, needing nothing but the rhythm. He startled as footsteps echoed closer to him, glancing up to see her next to his table. She had stopped dancing now, looking down at him with a strange sadness. “You look…lonely.” Oh, her voice was one that a songbird would envy. It reminded him of her. Her. She could never be as pretty as the waitress standing in front of him, now. With her dark brown eyes that were a little too bug-eyed, her thin lips, and her wavy hair that curled, refusing to tame itself, around her face. But to him, she was his shooting star, his lantern in the darkness, his little dove. His Madhavi. As he stared up into the waitresses' hazy blue eyes, he found some kind of understanding in them. She smiled, and held out a hand, setting her broom on a nearby booth. “Do you care to dance?” Luke glanced at her hand, and back up at her. He put on a strained smile as he took it. It felt callused and strong, and she pulled him all the way to his feet. He wobbled a little, and she steadied him gently. Her eyes were hypnotizing, pulling him in. Then, they began to dance. Luke had never learned how to dance before, but her soft whispers and gentle nudges were all he needed to get the hang of it. Soon, they were waltzing in harmony, faces close together but eyes stretching different worlds. When they kissed at the end of the night, it was soft and gentle. It didn’t feel like when he kissed Madhavi, that burst of euphoria and joy flooding his system. It felt bittersweet, like a wave of pain washing over him that was quelled with a rising tide of acceptance. “I’m not looking for anything,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his cheeks. “Neither am I,” he murmured back. His voice didn’t sound or feel like his own, no longer gravelly and destroyed, but soft and smooth. “Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?” He could see her smile. It felt like nothing else. “Of course.” As he was pulled up to the roof, Luke couldn’t help but wonder how else his night could have gone. Usually, Luke’s nights ended in him living someone else’s life. But sitting next to another songbird, eyes reflecting the orange and yellows of the sunset, Luke finally let himself be free.
“I think I just met the happiest person in the world,” Levi grumbled, slumping back in his chair. Maria, his roommate, glanced up from the coffee she was stirring with surprise. “Yeah? Who’s that?” She asked, handing him a cup. He nodded curtly to her in appreciation and took a sip. The liquid burned hot against his tongue, completely washing any flavor away. He grimaced and drank anyway before answering her question. “My new colleague. In my job. He’s far too…happy to be working retail.” “Oh, those kinds,” she sighed as she took the seat across from him and sipped from her own mug. “It’s just the novelty. He’ll probably burn out in like, a couple days. Give him time. He’ll be as just as miserable as you soon.” For some reason, the thought stirred something…odd in Levi. Usually, the joke about making someone miserable would make him laugh, but when it came to this particular someone… Maria seemed to recognize his internal frustration, and smirked. “What, he was that much of a sunshine? I gotta meet this kid.” “You’d get tired of him soon,” Levi warned. He dumped the rest of his coffee down the sink with a sigh. “I…honestly don’t know if I should even go into work today. Dealing with him…” “Do you like him or do you hate him?” “What a stupid question.” “The fact that you’re not answering is concerning.” Levi tied his work apron around his waist in a sad, drooping knot. He grabbed his keys, spinning them around his pinkie absentmindedly. “I’ve got to go in.” “See you,” said Maria, not looking up from her glass. Levi shut the door behind him as he exited the apartment. The cold wind blew his black hair in his face as he trudged to his car and started it up. Winter was the most tolerable season, but it always was a pain to get to work. The scenery flashed by as he tapped on the radio, choosing a random station and letting it play on the lowest volume. He navigated the road to work as if in a daze, his hands activating years of muscle memory and doing it for him. That was, until he saw a short figure waving his car down from the window. With a jolt, he stopped the car in his tracks. The figure ventured up to the window, tapping lightly on the glass. Snow frosted his nose and cheeks, like white freckles that glowed in the high noon sun. “Hello? Someone in there? Oh, it’s you, Levi! I was starting to wonder when someone would find me, of course it had to be you, you always go on this route…” “Leo-“ he cut him off. “What the hell are you doing on the sidewalk? It’s like, 25 degrees.” Leo gestured to the big puff of a white jacket he was wearing. The smile adorning his face was wide enough to bridge oceans. “I’m all covered!” The warmth simply exuding from his being was a little too much to handle. Levi dropped his head into his hands. “Do…you need a ride?” “Yea, that would be amazing,” he beamed. “Do you have food, by any chance? I haven’t been in your car yet.” The way he said yet seemed to insinuate that they were close friends. Levi glared at him. “I don’t have food.” Leo pouted, and it was so adorable it made Levi’s heart miss a beat. “Alright…can we stop by somewhere or something?” “I’m not your dad,” Levi growled at him, looking pointedly away from Leo’s warm eyes. “Get in or stay out, I don’t care. Snows getting in my car, and it’s getting cold out.” “Awwww, you really do care!” Leo cooed. “There is a heart underneath that big grumpy-“ Levi abruptly shut the door and drove off. If Leo showed up fifty minutes late with a sullen look on his face and if Levi snickered to himself for the rest of his shift, the spirits would be none the wiser. Happiness wasn’t meant for a world like the one they lived in. Maybe, one day he could finally work up the nerve to tell Leo that. But, for now, he would be content watching from the shelves as he watched a little piece of sunshine light up his dark and dreary world.
I stared out into the abyss yawning beneath me, trying to lose myself in the endless void as my horse nickered, pushing its wet snout into my palm. The statue next to me stood stoically still, light patterning across its crown as rose spread from the rising sun and across the sky, bathing the rounded peaks in gleaming light. I dismounted, still feeling a little detached, and ran my hand across its side. It was a strange thing, an amalgamation of many different mythical creatures. It had a head like a griffin but the tail of a phoenix, and the long, coiling body of a sphinx. Silver scales were splattered across its cheeks like freckles, and they glowed like stars, forming constellations that I traced with my fingertips. My horse pressed against my side, the warm weight dragging me back to reality. I knelt down in front of it to read the small plaque at its feet. “Here lies the body of Sylvia Grey. Taken from us too soon, but always in our hearts.” I sat down by its side and laid my head on its back. “Sylvia,” I murmured. “I’ll have to come up with a more creative name next time.” I pulled down my sleeve and opened my satchel, picking up a tiny quilled feather. I enscribed the name along the thousands I had used across the centuries. I penned a tiny statue next to it, roaring proudly into the night sky. I turned and walked away, patting the statue on the head once. I pulled down my sleeve and traced the outline of my tattooed bird of paradise, my finger dotting the Greek letters underneath. A promise. A promise I had made to another that would live until time stopped. “Until the word stops turning,” I murmured, and trekked down the cliff, ready to start another life.
This is a continuation of another story called “The Stranger” on my profile. You might want to read that one for some context haha
He was walking down Sunset Boulevard when he saw her for the first time. At first, his eyes skipped over her, for she was just another stranger walking through the department stores, one that would walk past him again and again until time ran to a stop and the stores would close their windows in fear of the shoppers drifting outside. There was no reason to pay any attention to her tall figure, or even to the tattoos snaking down her sleeves and crawling up her neck.
As he passed her, her jet black hair brushed his shoulder. She twisted around suddenly, an apology growing fast on her tongue, until she froze. Her sleeve had dipped down to reveal surely her most stunning tattoo of all; a golden and blue bird of paradise, colors whorling through the intricate designs, eyes gleaming as it glanced down at the Greek phrase inscribed just beneath the bird. His breath caught in his throat. He recognized that symbol. That bird. It was inscribed on his own wrist, a matching bird of paradise. The tattoo that had been stuck with him the day he was born. The tattoo that had haunted him and changed him, a neverending mystery without a conclusion.
Any words he was about to say dissipated in an instant as she apologized quickly, and eyes flicked just once down to his wrist as she hurried off. He reached out, and barely managed to grasp her hand. She glanced at him briefly, following his eyes down to her wrist, where the bird’s magnificent crown peeked out from her sleeve. She looked him right in the eyes, and there was something familiar in the golden depths. A light that had once burned for him, a stranger to her now. “Not in this life, my dear,” her voice was soft but musical, an unrecognizable accent twanging every note. “Perhaps I’ll see you in the next.” “What?” he breathed, but she was gone, just another feather on the breeze, another stranger on the street, another being in the cycle, unceremoniously tossing him out of his own little harmony.
Something stopped him from going after her. Almost like she didn’t want to be found. Besides, there was no chasing after her now. She was long gone. Another puzzle weaved into his mystery. He brushed the greek lettering under the bird. It wasn’t just a perhaps. He would make sure it was a promise. Tha synantiómaste xaná kai xaná méchri o kósmos mas na stamatísei na gyrízei, agápi mou. “Until the world stops turning,” he murmured, and walked down the rest of the boulevard, just another man in the sea of life.