It's the quiet moments.

The simple silences before bed

The sips between tea

The walk to and from the parking lot

The time between this sentence and the next

The first light seen in the morning

It's all the quiet moments, I find myself thinking of you.

I was here.

My name may not be the most important one to run across your lips
I could just be a speck, my fingerprints may fade,
Perhaps I won't be remembered.
But I was here.

Photographs of me could burn,
My bones could turn to dust,
Your memories of me might fade
But I was here.

Whether you recall my name or not, I was here.
If you forget the color my eyes, I was here.
If my body happens to be lost
I was here.

Do you ever have those days
Where you are unreasonably upset?
I suppose I have reason.
I don't know.
I am overwhelmed with
Thoughts and feelings I'd rather not have.
Don't they know I need to study?
Don't they care that I'm busy?
Or that I had a good day,
So why ruin this one?
Why why why why why?
It's rather cruel
And self centered of them.
I must ask that you leave
And come back on a day
That justifies this somberness.

It's been a long short amount of time.

I've tried to form the words worthy for you to read.
And to be frank,
I still don't think these are good enough.
But I want to try...

Six months
One hundred and ninety one days,
Four thousand, five hundred, and eighty four hours.
And then some.


It feels like it has been so much longer
But the days are short,
And our love is strong.

Six months I've been in love with you.
And I'm begging for six more,
And another six after that,
Would you still have me?

This time together
Is better than I could have ever imagined.
I did not think I could continue to fall,
I did not think I could love you more than I did,
But I do.
And I want to keep growing,

I want to keep falling. 

Happy Six Months My Love. 

Two weeks.

Two weeks will go fast,
but three days go faster.
Even so,
I will beg for them to come swiftly.
And I will try to slow time with an iron grip.
Please let me breathe in the minutes.
I want to have them all.

Pretty

Original writing by Candice Rutledge
with excerpts from “Pretty” By Katie Makkai
and “Shake the Dust” by Anis Mojgani

Pretty

This is for the fat girls of today

and those women who passed out 

deforming their rib cages with corsets 

to obtain the perfect hour glass shape.

And those who plucked their hair line

to have a more attractive facade.

This is for those past who stuffed their 

bellies to advertise fake wealth,

and those today who can do 

nothing but empty them.

and the ones who are 

offended by their own anatomy. 

This is for those who have painted their skin white

or sat in a bed built of lights in hopes to stain it.

For the gym class wall flowers 

and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers

Because society told them there is 

something wrong with presenting their body. 

This is for the bra stuffers

and the starvers. 

Because we’ve all wondered

Will I be pretty?

That pretty question is asked at conception

and it hangs from our mothers’ lips 

with pounds of worry.

From birth we’re dressed in frilly clothes,

with bows gelled into our hair

and holes puncturing our ears.

Will I be pretty?

Will I be pretty?

Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?

But when puberty strikes baby faces

nature naturally deforms our features. 

Teeth set at science fiction angles,

crooked noses, cracked voices, 

awkward body transitions, 

faces fingerprinted with scars 

and pimples. 

How could this happen? 

Don’t worry... They’ll say.

We can fix you.

And now you’ll spend the 

rest of your life being fixed. 

You’ll use ointments, lotions, and pills

to fix your face. 

Mineral powder and liquid 

to cake on a thin mask,

bright or dark colors to bring out your eyes,

a dash of pink because your 

natural blush just won’t work. 

The most expensive hair products 

and salon care to change your color

or add a glimmering highlight. 

Heating tools to fix the fringe 

that you’ve been cursed with. 

Steel bars encase your teeth

and force them to get in line.

Then there is the special 

toothpaste and mouthwash 

to give you the perfect white smile. 

And if that’s not good enough

we’ll feed you bleach. 

Then we’ll introduce you to razors

So you can damn any hair that isn’t 

growing on your head. 

And if that’s not good enough

we’ll give you hot wax to yank it out,

but if you really want to be perfect

and rid of it forever. we’ll give you lasers. 

And to fix your shape we’ll give you

bras that make you look bigger

and pills to make you look smaller. 

Special foods to help lose weight,

special shoes and clothes to wear

because they’ll help flatter you

so you look presentable. 

There are ointments and lotions

to make your future wrinkles go away

lip-glosses to make you 

have a kissable plumpness. 

Exfoliators to scratch off 

the dead weight on your face. 

Gyms will be open 24 hours a day

so you can constantly fix your figure. 

But if the pills, and the running,

the bra stuffing, and lip plumping 

still can’t fix you we’ll offer you a knife,

an injection, or suction. 

This is for the girls who haven’t seen 

their own face in years. 

Who can’t remember their 

natural hair color

and paint their faces daily.

This is for everyone who is

crest-fallen because not enough
strangers found you suitable to sleep with.

This is to my some-day future daughter,
With eyes swollen shut from insecurity begging me
“Mom will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?”
I will wipe that question from your mouth
like cheap lipstick and answer,
“No! The word pretty is unworthy of
everything you will be, and no child
of mine will be contained in five letters.”

“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative,
pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.” 

The Push

There is this constant strain in me. This pushing and pulling, and pushing and pulling... I can never sit still for more than a second because the blood clots with the dust in my veins. And the world won't wait for me to shake the dust. I can feel myself freeze but time doesn't stop with me. The pushing and pulling makes the colors bright and the darkness fade but it doesn't fade for me. The air feels heavy in my lungs as the days come and go. The weight is too much and the pushing and pulling doesn't stop for anyone.

But I'll still give you my all. Not just you, but our brothers, our sisters, our parents, and their parents passed. These words are for you, and for me, and for anyone who let their blood clot, and their veins stop, for the swollen lungs, and drowning eyes. This is so you know the pushing and pulling is for you. And it doesn't stop for anybody.

- Candice Michal

Untitled, a photo by candice_michal on Flickr.

Poem inspired by "Shake the Dust" by Anis Mogjani

Say hello to the morning light.

It's beautiful isn't it? The light, and the fact that you awoke to see it. The colors were a mixture of yellows and pale pinks. This is the most beautiful time of day. Of course the sunset is amazing too, but there is something about the sunrise. You watch and you know you made it to another day. Today will be beautiful because you were here, you witnessed it and breathed the same air I breathed. And even though the distance keeps me from my world, I know we both woke to the same sun, on the same day, and that is what makes life beautiful.

“Everything is clearer when you’re in love.”

and the air is warmer.
the sun is brighter.
the wind is calmer.
the grass feels softer.

you hear sounds
that you didn't notice before.
small details that
seemed meaningless,
are now of utmost importance.

skin is more sensitive
to any contact.
and butterflies have made
my body their permanent home.
I can feel their wings beat
whenever I see you.

thoughts always trail off to you
and I can't help but wonder
if I'm on your mind too.
what goes through your head
when you hear my name,
or see me after a long period of time?

emotions and feelings are enhanced.
you know, I never thought of myself
to be a jealous person
but I am insanely jealous now,
of anyone who sees you everyday.

because that should be me. 

Happily Mistaken.

I was content with the fact that I'd be alone.
Happy to have felt love once,
I was fine with the idea I may not feel it twice.
But then there was you.

You knocked on my walls constantly
and why I didn't answer I'm just not quite sure.
Perhaps it was just the fear ruling me.
But I finally started to let you come close,
I was terrified to show you my true blood
and unrehearsed thoughts.
Where I expected rejection, you showed me love.

I fell and here, I'm still falling.
The day I worked up the courage
to finally admit the truth
is one of the happiest days of my life.
And then the Tuesday I was yours,
Everything felt right again.

All clichés aside
I never thought my heart
would belong to anyone again.
But when you part your arms around me,
and I curl into your chest,
I know that this is how we're supposed to be.

Poem I wrote.

Creative Writing.

This is inspired by Interview with a Vampire. An amazing book you should read!

I saw the Moon

I saw the Moon dancing on the glittering shore.

Her silk white hair floated elegantly above her round face,

a blue dress sparkled against the black waves, and her milk

white skin glowed ever so softly.

Her feet were a bare blur as she swayed in the night.

I saw the Ocean watch her with lustful eyes.

His black suit was darker than the midnight sky,

emerald eyes twinkled in awe and wonder.

He never blinked for fear he would miss a beautiful step.

Eager hands reached out to her as she shied away.

I saw the Ocean’s plan.

The Moon liked to tease the Ocean,

she taunted him endlessly until finally she took his hand.

Once the cold man got a hold of her 

he refused to let go.

I saw the Moon become the Ocean’s prisoner.

Now I see how me makes her dance,

with a tight grasp that she cannot break.

She cries softly to herself each night,

and her bare feet never miss a step

- I saw the Moon, Candice Michal

Blind

Sometimes I think rainbows are

a figment of my imagination.

They rarely appear unless rain

drizzles down over my eyes.

When I go to investigate

they simply fade away forever.

I get excited to see

them like they are miracle.

While others nod as if

they see them everyday.

Perhaps an artist paints them

in the sky to tease me.

Maybe I am just blind

and the colors let me see.

- Blind, Candice Michal

I Don’t Know You

We used to be so close.

I used to know your secrets

And you knew my sorrows

You are a stranger to me

I wonder what happened

Why I don’t understand

Do you still love

The way I loved you

Can’t we go back

Back to how it used to be

Back the friendship we had

Back to a life where we smiled and laughed together

Do you not miss the past?

- I Don't Know You, Candice Michal

Poems.

I have written two poems this week. I did not realize how alike they were until I reread them both. They are related to sleeping. Interesting. You would think that would encourage me to go to bed, yet here I am blogging at nearly 1 a.m. about my sleepy poems ha ha.

"I will never wake up."

Creative writing/quote of the day.

I dream in Smiles

Sometimes in Tears.

- When I Dream, By Candice Michal

I wrote this, it is from the poem When I Dream. I like that line best, so that is why I didn't post the whole poem.