PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The wind tugs gently at the girls hair. “Come to me,” it whispers, “come and play…” The girl glances around nervously before entering the apartment building, checking the lobby behind her as she quickly scurries into the elevator. Once inside she smacks the door close button so no one may follow. She sighs and leans against one of the mirrored walls of the elevator after hitting the glowing green button for the 27th floor. The girl is smiling to herself, half listening to the overplayed elevator music and half listening to her own heartbeat as it slams inside her tiny chest like a caged and frantic crow.

The girl is young, only 23 with much to live for yet none of it worth while. She glances at her reflection in the mirrored walls and snorts at it in disgust. “How dare they call her pretty?! Lies, all of it!” the voices in her head scream at her. “Look at you! You’re a fuckin’ mess. Your hair is a nappy, frizzy, mass the color of dirty dishwater. Your features are too round, too childlike. Your fat! The only thing you have going for you is your eyes, and who the hell ever pays any fuckin’ attention to those?”

In truth the girl was rather good looking. Her hair was a mass of curls that fell in a cascade to her waist, light brown with blonde highlights. Her features were a bit round but it gave her the false appearance of innocence and allowed her to go from cute-n-innocent to fuck-me with just a tilt of her head and a change in the heat from her eyes. Her eyes were a molten gold that sparkled when she willed them to and played with the light in the dark as a cats would. She wasn’t fat, but nor was she thin. She was a girl next door kind of pretty. Not gorgeous yet defiantly worth a double take. Unfortunately for her the voices that every one possesses in the back of their subconscious chose to yell at her constantly for being unattractive, however far from the truth that may be.

At the 17th floor a man in his late 50’s got on the elevator and hit the button for the 24th floor. He smiled at the pretty girl who was pressed up in the corner, who was dresses in what looked like ratty blue jeans and an oversized black T-shirt with a leather trench coat clutched tightly about her. The girl gave the man a shaky smile then stared at the floor and admired the hole on the toe of her right combat boot.  The man vaguely wondered where she was going, and was opening his mouth to ask when the door chimed open at the 24th floor. The man stepped out and the girl quickly hit the door close button before he could turn around to ask her any questions as she could tell her was about to do. The man stared at the elevator for a good two minuets before strolling down the hall to room 24-8 to play poker with his buddies and watch comedy central. As he waited for his friend Pete to open the door his mind drifted back to the girl. Her eyes were so sad…

The door opened and the man was greeted by Pete clamping him on the shoulder and the rest of the guys shouting their hellos over George Carlin’s “7 Dirty Words”. all thoughts of the girl with the sad eyes vanished on an air of drunken laughter and stale cigar smoke.

The girl rode the last 3 stories to the 27th floor undisturbed. Then the door chimed and opened she stepped out onto the overly plush cornflower blue carpeting that adorned the hallway. She glanced down at it and wrinkled her nose. She had always hated the color of this hallway.

The girl made her way to the end of the hallway as silently as she could which resulted in the only noises being that of her trench coat sliding against her legs as she walked, the soft thud of her boots as she placed on foot in front of the other, and her own breathing, which seemed the loudest noise of all.

At the end of the hallway there was a door which was locked until she pulled a few oddly bent safety pins and paperclips out of her wallet and poked at the lock until she was rewarded with a light click and the ability to push the heavy door open revealing a dark staircase and at the top of that, another door, a door that wasn’t locked.

The girl let the door click closed behind her and stood still for a few seconds to allow her eyes to adjust to the lack of light before making her way up the metal stairs. The railing was cool to the touch as her hand slip up it, helping her keep her balance. She had gone up these stairs many, many times over the last four years. And she could count on one hand how many of those times she had been alone. Her footsteps sounded hollow without the second pair of clattering steps that usually accompanied hers. The girl’s eyes began to well up with tears but she held them back, not allowing them to spill down her pale cheeks. She would not cry for him again.

She burst out of the stairway at close to a run and hung on the door as she caught her breath and claimed control of her emotions. The night air lifted her hair from her shoulders and threw it about her head. “Come and play,” the wind whispered, “come play with me…”

The girl wiped her nose on the back of her hand and stared up at the moon who hung gravid in her pale halo of soft light. The girl stared at the moon for a long moment, her lips slightly parted, her eyes unfocused. She was somewhere else, or rather, she was where she was now, but at a different time.





A boy and a girl were laughing, sweet laughter like the sound of wind chimes. They were laying on a soft blanket with  pictures of tigers on it taken from the boy’s apartment on the 8th floor. The girl was pressed up close to the boy, curled up in his warmth as he wrapped his strong arms around her and kissed the top of her head.  They were talking about nothing and laughing at everything and smiling…





The girl closed her eyes and let her head fall forward until her forehead and the tip of her delicate nose touched the cool metal of the door. She sighed and concentrated on taking  deep breaths, hoping to push away the image.





The boy was tickling the girl, squeezing her sides and pushing her onto her back as she laughed and tried to push his hands away, screaming how much she hated him while smiling. When she was flat on her back the boy stopped and smiled down at her.

“I hate you,” the girl said breathlessly as she smiled up at him.

The boy leaned down and kissed her, gently pushed his tongue between her lips where it was greeted by hers. He kissed her tenderly, yet forcefully, the way she liked to be kissed. He tasted like honey and fresh grapes, sweet yet slightly sour… raw…





The girl suppressed a sob as she ran her forehead up and down the edge of the door. She felt her skin snag on a bit of sharp metal and tear, hot blood began to trickle down the bridge of her nose…





The boy pulled back from the kiss and gazed down at the girl, his eyes filled with love. He traced the outline of her face with his fingers and pushed a lock of the girl’s light brown curls behind her right ear.  Then he poked her nose. The girl wrinkled her nose and poked his nose in return.

“Hey!” the boy exclaimed and began to tickle the girl again. She laughed and wiggled out from beneath him to scurry a few feet away. The boy rolled onto his side and smiled at her then raised one eyebrow in a question. The girl laughed and crawled back to him, leaning her head against the swell of his strong chest. She could hear his heartbeat.

They gazed skyward and began to talk of their lives. Words flowed from each of them that had been bottled up inside for years. When the last secret was carried away on the wind to the heavens they lay in silence, the boys hand idly stroking the girl’s curls and the girl’s fingers, which had found their way under the boy’s black T-shirt, made small circles on the bare flesh of the boy’s flat stomach.  

“Have I ever told you how much I hate you?” the boy asked the girl while a wispy smile danced across his lips.

“No,” the girl responded, playing the game they had made up long ago, “How much do you hate me?” A small smile graced her perfect lips as she tilted her head up so she could see him.

“More then I have ever hated anyone else, and more then I will ever be able to hate anyone.” At that the boy leaned down to brush his lips against the girls. The girl thought his lips felt like velvet.

“And I hate you,” the girl said to him, lips inches from his, “more then anyone, ever.” She closed those few inches between them then curled back up next to him. They fell asleep under the stars, wrapped in one another’s embrace.



A tear trickled from the corner of the girl’s eye, made a crystal track to the tip of the girl’s nose and mixed with the drop of blood that hung there. A pinkish teardrop fell to the girls black T-shirt and was lost among the darkness. The girl tilted her head up to the moon once more, silently asking why she had been submitted to this torture.

The moon looked upon the poor girl’s face, streaked with tears and dirt and blood. The moon did nothing for she could not save all the beautiful children in the world.

The wind played with the girl’s curls. “Come and play…” it coaxed, “come and play with me…”

The girl’s gaze drifted to the edge of the roof and the wind pushed her towards it. Making her hair fly about her face. The girl slowly glided towards the railing that separated the roof from thin air, placed her delicate hands on it, laced her artist’s fingers around the cool metal.  She leaned over and peered 28 stories down to the street, bustling with people even this late at night.

The girl ducked beneath the railing and stepped out onto the ledge of the roof. The wind made her hair dance about her face. “Come and play…” it screamed, “Come and play with me…”

The girl smiled. She stepped up to the edge of the roof, the tips of her boots not touching cement any longer. She opened her arms and let her trench coat flap about her, slapping against her legs. The girl’s eyes met the moon and she smiled. The girl leaned forward. She was flying.

“I hate you,” she whispered seconds before she hit the pavement.