Young Writers Society

There's an empty space, oh, so empty, aching in my heart. Sometimes I feel like it's full of icy water that's slowly seeping out into the rest of me and numbing every single muscle in my chest, filling the bullet holes where I've been shot down and covering my entire soul with a thin sheet of ice. Oh, God, why?

In the lavender light of the sunset, I remember you, remember staring up at the stars and wondering how they were hung there, imagining that each one was attached to a tiny piece of an ethereal spider's web, breathing in the sweet autumnal wind and gasping as I realized that maybe this was one of those nights that everybody remembers, the ones they look back to when they're older and identify as one of those things that defined them.

Minutes later, I was sitting in the backseat of my friend's car with the taste of you lingering deliciously strange on my lips, staring out as the world rushed by in a blur of trees and stars and houses, asking myself if what I'd done was something that would haunt me, if it would just be another one of my regrets tattooed jaggedly across the surface of my heart, if it'd be one of those things I'd remember on rainy days and wince at because it was so utterly foolish.

I still don't know whether or not it was good judgement on my part or whether it was just the silliness of my youth telling me to take that moment and run with it. When I think about it now, all I get is an unsteady mixture of regret and forlorn reminiscence as the pain shoots through my heart like strands of white lightning. It should be something that I cherish, but instead I just want to banish it from my memory, yet I know I'll never be able to.

I'm so empty. I shouldn't be like this when I'm this young. Oh well. Rationalizing, at this point, has become obscure, and now I'm just left, crumpled, in the aftermath of my first kiss to a boy that I haven't seen since. The lesson learned? Sometimes giving your heart away doesn't pay, and you're not left with the imagined 'happily ever after' that everybody I know seems to be talking about. Stupid fairy tales. What do they do anyway?

Where there are demons, there must be angels. And where there are innocent girls who genuinely believe that a boy actually loves them for who they are rather than just for the softness of their lips, there will be boys ready to take advantage of them.

But tell me, why must fire always melt the ice? Why can't diamonds made of water stay that way forever, and never be melted by the dreadful heat of a fluttering flame? Why do good things always have to leave just when you want them to stay?

This is really really good. I wasn't expecting this. So much raw emotion. Its briliant! I my self believe that the best works of art come from emotional rants. My best work has. I have nothing to say that can make this better, it is perfect as it is. I love the way you describe it, how you dont mention the reason for this emotion til close to the end. I love your word choose and it all just seemed to work together really nicely. I normally only read poems on here but I am so glad that I read this. And it is sad that what happened in this did, it is hard to deal with, but the truth is it happens so often and many people write about it. But unlike many of those people you have managed to write about it with out making it cliche. Good job

~Rain

The entire second Stanza was mezmerizing! Your vocabulary is astonishing. The rawness of the emotion works so well with the refined craft of the rant, it's like the Yin and Yang, the craft is no good without a catching context, and the same vice versa. This is the perfect piece for anyone who has ever been hurt and used by someone, I even managed to relate to it somehow, somewhere in my heart. Absolutely brilliant