A Speck Of Emotional Reality

Aug 28

Left Bare

For so long I’ve been weak, stripped down to the bone from all your beatings. But finally I started to build back my flesh, and become strong once again. But as soon as you saw my skin turn soft, and the rosy color appeared back in my cheeks, you struck again. You clung to my skin just long enough to get attached, and then ripped your self away leaving me bare again. You cover your lies with ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’. You think that I won’t see what you’re doing, what you’ve been doing, but I’ve finally caught onto your games. Whenever I build myself back up again, however long that will take, whenever my bones are no longer bare but filled with color and tone, I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be expecting you, but this time I’ll be ready. Ready for your abuse, and ready to not let you anywhere near me. Once I’m beautiful and whole again, that’s when you’ll be coming. The only difference is this time you’ll be the one left bare. 

Aug 01

Companionship In Its’ Finest

The sweat beaded down the back of her neck and dampened the small of her back. The sun was pounding but the breeze coming off of the lake made it somewhat bearable. She sat there thinking, pondering the past couple of days. They had been filled with chaos and destruction. Finally she had been happy again, truly happy. She didn’t have to put on a show for anyone anymore, but then it happened. He came along just like he does in the most inconvenient times. He planted a thought inside her head, not one she would tell anyone else, because maybe she hadn’t believed it herself, but it was a thought nonetheless. She knew the hurt was coming because that was the one thing he could be depended upon for, pain, but she chose to push that certainty to the side. Despite the minor set back that he caused- because it was a set back, pain was what followed after he so gently placed himself back into her life and then ejected himself just as swiftly- she had another sorrow lurking around her. She had always been the type to put countless hours of unseen efforts into a relationship, any relationship. This had so carefully been followed out recently, with a friend. But as she looked back on the past week she noticed a shift in the ever growing relationship between the two, it had stopped growing. Once a day apart had left hours of babbling over coffee, but now a week apart had left not one word. It seemed she had been replaced, left broken yet again by another she held so dear. Still she sat pondering, maybe she had over done her analysis- it was an unfortunate habit she practiced quite frequently- and maybe it was just the lonesome nights spent by the lake. Either way the sun still set, the waves still crashed, and her life would still go on. Wether companionship followed or not; this is how she came to be about her life. 

-Natalie A. Chapman

Black and Blue Scars

I’m proud of my scars, every last one of them

For they define who I am, and where my soul has been 

The most recent one was shown on my heart

You see, I don’t choose to love you

I love you because if I didn’t I don’t know what I’d do

Bruises cover my arms, each one tells a different story

My skin is painted black and blue

Misery is m residence, and pain is my bliss

It’s a comfortable place to be,

Somewhere between your heart and hell

You’ve created the deepest scar of all within my heart

This pain never felt so real, this cut wasn’t meant not to heal

But the scar will surely remain,

To remind me that I’m beautiful and tomorrow’s a brighter day 

-Natalie A. Chapman

Beautiful Disaster

You couldn’t quite call it dark, because it wasn’t. It was a dull yellow day, a wet day. A windy day. Water fell from the sky like the tears of a young girls first heart break. The winds danced around the trees and houses, taunting them with every last gust. Would you come tumbling down now? No not now, maybe the next gust around. Windows shattered, cars zoom by. The hot muggy day quickly turned to a cool wet breeze. The sirens speeding up everybody’s heart beat. The flashes of lightning lit up the sky, the rolls of thunder pierced the cry. What a marvelous disaster, still beautiful but distrustful none the less. A mouth that runs dry cries out for a drop of rain, but they dare not run out into the storm. Shelter, shelter. Everyone is called to shelter. But the homeless, those without homes, where do they go? Where do they hide from this beautiful disaster?

-Natalie A. Chapman

Jul 07

An Idealistic Idea Part II.

 

Her mind started rattling off ideas in all directions. A memory, an image, a common motion was all over analyzed; it was all let loose in her carnival of a mind. Thoughts went up and down, ideas fluttered from ride to ride, and the quintessence of her being was being depicted by a cartoon drawling. She saw everything as something new, in fact something new had captivated her. People she had known all her life looked at her as an abjured version of her self. People who had never known her looked at her as an idiosyncratic being. But she wasn’t strange, she wasn’t far off; she was mesmerized by this new idea. The one secreting her mind with words and characterizations. What use to be a blue couch was now an azure pallet, maybe one of which had been sat upon by someone of great high-standings, or one that had been accompanied by a murder- considering the redbrown  stain just to the left arm. The world around her was being painted color for the first time, and once she had a taste of her new found lifestyle… she could never have enough. 

-Natalie A. Chapman

An Idealistic Idea

 

It was an idea so uninformed, unhatched, a mustard seed in the chaos that consumed her brain. Her heart beat raced, increasing with every touch to her soft, pearl like cheeks. This idea was growing, becoming more and more the center of her every thought. It had captivated her mind, it grew as high as a corn stock, sprouting “what if’s” in every direction. Her common lifestyle of reoccurring routines wasn’t enough anymore, her mundane heart wouldn’t beat at the steady pace of habitual life. No, she needed much more. She needed an idealistic idea, a mustard seed of a thought to grow her, and reach her to new unworldly heights. She thought all this up in a matter of seconds, as his palatable lips brushed her cheek. A soft kiss would never be the same. No, she needed much more. 

- Natalie A. Chapman

Hope Shines Through


She sat there sobbing into her already damp hands, her tears flowed off of her palms like rain from the clouds. She looked up ever so often to see if anyone was there, just waiting for a sign. Just hoping that somebody would turn around and walk back into the now desolate room. Like the moon waits on the sun, she waited to be dried up. Soaked up by anything that she could. 

She felt like her day would never come, her day of recognition, of appreciation. She had been sitting in the same place so long just waiting, praying, for a change. She felt so weak, so so thimble. Her knees buckled and her lips quivered. She could barely keep her eyes open because of the blistering size and tenderness that surrounded them.

Though she was the only one left in the room and the lights had all faded, she continued to stand her ground. Through the cracks in her fingertips and between each glistening tear, she could see the slightest sliver of hope, and hope was the very thing that kept her there. 

- Natalie A. Chapman