Reincarnation

    The floor has become my bed. It calls to me. When my mind can't handle the stress and my legs can't stand the weight, it calls. And at first I whisper, "No, keep standing," but I can only keep my eyes open for so long,my head is spinning, my palms are sweating, please catch me when I fall. I am so unbelievably scared.

   But it wasn't until I was lying on the ground praying, "God, if this is life, take me now," that I started to remember. Somehow between the moment I fell and that moment I woke up in the fetal position on the floor of my math class, I lived a thousand lives.
   I lived the lives of every character in every book that I've read. I died with Gatsby and searched the streets of New York for a lock with a key. I floated down the Mississippi. I lived the lives of the tabloid princesses and the prom queens. I lived the life of the artist and the life of the artist's mistress. I've been a mermaid who desperately wanted legs and the girl resurrected by a kiss. I've lived the life of the king who marries the witch, then proceeds to die. I've lived too many lives of drug addicts and not enough of gamblers. I've watched from the sidelines, and I've jumped in the ring.  I've lived a life on the islands of Neverland. I've had my feet bound to appear more attractive. Ive lived the life of the girl who works for the peep show, and cries at night. I've been a marathon runner. I've been to a hundred different worlds, a thousand different times. I've lived these lives with my eyes closed.

   I've seen how it ends, and how it begins.


The secret's in the ink. 
-M

You're red. You bleed red. Not like everyone else bleeds red, because everyone does. But inside your veins, you're red. You are loud. You are bold, and without you a rainbow would be dull. Sometimes you are a little over powering, but you look too good doing it, all we can do is sit and watch you tell us how the world really is.

You're gray. Not dull, muttled gray, but shockingly simple yet completely stunning gray. You're the grey that has two spellings. You're comfort, and you're love. You're the gray that lets me sit in its lap and cry into its gray arms.You're my gray.

You're maroon. Most people see you as just that. But the people who really know you see your complex flecks of red and brown and black and gray that make you who you are, maroon. You're trying to blend into the background, and you desperately want to be someone's favorite color.

You're cream colored. Please don't take offense, you're perfect. From afar you seem white, unreachable. But when you let people see you they can't help but stare and wonder what paint you fell in that made you so rich and stunning, and we all whisper to each other about how we thought you were simply white.

You're purple. We like you for a while, or maybe for a long time. And then we grow up, and you stay purple.

You're blue. Never shallow, light, baby blue. You're deep, royal blue. You're the blue of the ocean. You're comfort and kindness and humor blended into blue. You're a primary color. Without you none of us would exist, or even think of existing. I think when we get to heaven we'll see what colors make you, blue, and it will all make sense because we knew you.

Color your imagination.

And you call yourselves my "friends"

You really believed we got back together? 
Ah, yes.
We got you good
.Happy first of April.

You love me.