Pavlovd [Poetry]

You know I’ll be around when your heart starts tearing,
When it gets harder to breathe and you start heaving,
And the room gets darker and hope seems fainter,
When The End is in sight and you can’t be any more eager.

You know I’m there, before I can even say.
The second your heart splits, the second it sways,
In the thick of the blizzard; underneath the snow,
In the heat of the moment; the climax of your woe.

I’ll be around, by instinct more than will,
To see you to that same old trip downhill.
When your heart starts tearing, you know I’ll be around;
Conditioned to come running when I hear that sound.

You call me over to listen to thoughts of calling quits,
What ifs, and regrets, to the beat of your broken heart, moonlit.
I’ll be there, I don’t have to say,
At the first beat of that broken heart, I’ll be on my way.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 160
Is it weird that I message you at the most complicated times of your life? You’ve yourself to thank.

Was There [Micro-Poetry]

Was there a start without an inevitable end?
When lines reach the edge,
Do they keep going or simply bend?
Why are these letters addressed,
If you had no intention to send?

Was there a go that had no inevitable stop?
Can I surpass gravity – to fall and never drop?
How low can I go
Before I find myself crawling up?
Why would you let the phone ring thrice
If you had no intention to wait for me to pick up?

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 82

Jennifer E. Smith’s This Is What Happy Looks Like

Happy looks like sunrises over the harbor, ice cream on a hot day, the sound of the waves down the street, the way my dog curls up next to me on the couch, evening strolls, great movies, thunderstorms, a good cheese burger, Fridays, Saturdays, Wednesdays, sticking your toes in the water, pajama pants, flip-flops, swimming, poetry. What does it look like to you?

This is What Happy Looks Like

Ellie and Graham has been exchanging emails for a few months, sharing details about their lives, hopes, and dreams, but they don’t even know each other’s first name. Young movie star, Graham Larkin, jumps at an opportunity to visit the hometown of a girl he’s met on the internet to try to take their relationship from online to irl. Small-town girl, Ellie O’Niell, on the other hand, isn’t one to draw attention to herself. She’s been pretty content in the middle of nowhere with her mom and friends all her life; and besides, she’s got the summer poetry course at Harvard to worry about.

This is What Happy Looks Like is a young adult, romance novel from Jennifer E. Smith. Although I am generally not a fan of these kinds of fiction, the book is surprisingly not very difficult to get invested in. The peek into the online exchanges of Ellie and Graham, though nothing new, is a nice touch. The unsent drafts at the beginning of part 2 broke my heart. Smith did a great job with writing the characters, especially the mom; she, to me, was the most relatable. Smith’s descriptives and dialogue are consistently animated. I absolutely enjoyed the exchange between Ellie and her mother during the Fourth of July celebration.

Of the few things I thought the novel could’ve worked on was revealing how much exactly Ellie and Graham knew about each other before they met. Also, the writing, at times, especially in the first part, felt a little forced. Ellie’s appreciation for poetry, for example, just came out of nowhere and Graham’s reveal to Quinn was uneventful. Dividing the novel into two parts was unnecessary. I’m sure there would’ve been a more subtle way to show the passing of time. The plot, later, becomes a little too complicated and by then, all I wanted was for a denouement that didn’t call for some cheesy deus ex machina (which, thankfully, it didn’t).

This is What Happy Looks Like didn’t leave me with much, but that’s maybe because I’m not into the genre. It is a lighthearted, romance novel and for that, it is pretty good. It had me invested in the story and characters; and though a bit bland, it did have a satisfying ending. I honestly would pass on another Smith novel if something more my speed was available, but if you enjoy reading about young love and all its complications, the book is definitely worth picking up. There is also a sequel novella called Happy Again if you have read the book and are interested in more.

Josh Tierney’s Warm Blood

There is a killer at Greenwood High. His name is Logan Filigree. Who is the killer at Greenwood High?

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Warm Blood is an ongoing web comic by Josh Tierney. It features the art of Saskia Gutekunst, Joysuke, Jane Bak, Naomi Franquiz, Winston Young, Marina Julia, Leiana Nitura, Oliver Pichard, and many others. The story follows Penny in her first year at Greenwood High and a murder that coincidentally occurred the same day.

At a glance, the comic is very overwhelming. Between the constantly changing art style, choppy conversation, and confusing storytelling, the comic takes a little getting used to. Though the story and cast are very compelling, I found it hard to push past the first, few pages. However, after getting used to the complexities of the comic, I found myself itching to find why everyone is so indifferent to the murders.

For the few chapters already published, Warm Blood has a surprising amount of re-readability. There are barely enough clues to make sense of what is going on that I couldn’t help but to go over everything multiple times. There are also an enjoyable amount of pop culture within the dialogue and art. Most surprises come out the most innocent of panels. The amazing character design from Afu Chan, is also worth a mention seeing that the characters are still recognizable across the always changing art style.

With what’s published so far, Warm Blood is definitely worth reading. Though it takes a little something out of you just to get through the first few pages, the payoff of noticing something beyond the foreground is worth the time. You can start reading the web comic here.

Deciphered in Carbon [Poetry]

Through death; post-grim
Her voice still ring.
In still she instilled
A steady growing din.

Unspoken words, uncovered.
They claim:
A secret, her secret:
one’s to be seen.

Rest, she’ll never.
By restless words, she lives.
Unawake till never
The sun set again.

Another piece to the puzzle:
her unknowable mind.
For the brute to dismember;
And the layman to deplete.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 61
Unseen Sylvia Plath Poems Deciphered in Carbon Paper

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Strangers Lost [Short Story]

You lost? She blinks once. How drunk did you have to be to hear the moon? You deaf too?, the moon asks – but it wasn’t the moon – a boy was sitting on the roof just outside the window. She sticks her head out for a better look. The moonlit boy shrugs and sinks back into his beanbag. Cool place you’ve got here. He scoffs, Ah, she speaks. She crawls onto the roof with him. The boy didn’t seem to mind, she thinks. The side of the house they were on was nowhere near the nauseating yard. Underoath played from a tiny speaker nearby. She winced at the fact that she knew the band, let alone the song. She sits where it wasn’t awkward – where she thought wasn’t awkward. She stared at him, staring at the moon, before staring back herself. Stare too long and you’ll get moon blinked. She saw the boy smirk, or maybe she imagined it. Now, if only your taste in literature was as good as your taste in company. She shrugs.

The moon continued to tell tales to the two still strangers under her light. It spoke as it trekked the sky, but the sun wasn’t far behind. Though La Lune’s tale was far from finished, the book was about to close. The moonlit boy stands to pick up the tiny speaker. Hey, I was listening to that. The boy nods then shrugs. He steps around the girl and slips back into the window. Hello, goodbye.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 250
The probable sequel, maybe. Read part one?

Strangers Lost [Short Story]

She swirled the soda in her cup and listened to the clink-clink-clinking the ice made against the glass. The music was blaring, but she was deaf to everything. This wasn’t her scene and she shouldn’t have gone before she stepped into the door. Right now, it’s like she had forgotten what it is to have fun. She convinced herself this was better than being locked up in her room – like she has been for weeks now. She looks up from her drink and starts to count the number of unsmiling faces in the room. Her eyes stop at a mirror one, she counts.

She stands and pushes through the crowd of strangers to get somewhere more tolerable. The yard was just as nauseating as the living room; she bolts back inside. She tries to remember whose party this was or who invited her out in the first place – she thinks she’s forgotten, or maybe she had no clue at all. Upstairs, she let her ears enjoy the muted version of the noise blasting from downstairs. She takes her time through the hall of picture-perfect, framed families and muffled, moaning doors, until she comes across one slightly ajar. The cold, night air greeted her as she pushed it open; the flapping curtains let the moonlight dance around in the dark room. She watched the moon peek in and out from behind the folds of the drapes. Before she knew it, she was at the sill, meeting the moon’s call. You lost?

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 250
There’s a probable sequel, maybe.
Read part two?