[Rough Draft]

Raindrops speckled the car windows of one of Al's Premium Yellow taxi cabs. The light from uniformly spaced sodium vapor lamps hid in the drops and ran with the streams. Why do roads that lead to airports always run through ghettos?

Second shift let out in two hours. She hoped that in that time she would be eighteen-thousand feet above ground with no way to turn around. She didn't want to answer the call that would inevitably come when he got back to apartment 23B on Walnut Ct. She didn't want to explain her absence and the empty closet in the place they called "home." Not that home had had any meaning to either of them in a long time.

"'Scuse me, ma'am. I know I'm not supposed to do this, but it's been a solid ten hours for me today. And, see, with me going to the terminal and all, I know there's gonna be folks needing a cab. And, well, I haven't had a smoke in quite a while..."

She waited for him to finish.

"Ma'am, would you mind awful much if I had a smoke? I wouldn't ask, but you seem like such a nice lady and all."

"I don't mind. Doesn't bother me."

"Oh thank you ma'am! Bless your heart."

"It's alright," She thought. It's alright. Just like he had always told her. "It'll all be alright. I'm here. Don't cry." But was it OK to cry now? Now that he wasn't there? Was it OK to cry now that it wasn't all alright anymore?

There was a note lying on her side of the mattress, written in black ink on the back of last month's cell phone bill.

Danny,
I'm sorry. I meant for this to all work out, but it just seems that we can't. I can't. I'm done trying. You always told me that I run away from my problems. I know, I always try to run. But this time, there's nothing for me to run from. There's nothing here for me anymore. I know it sounds foolish, but it's true. And please don't miss me. You killed me a long time ago, and I've been gone all this time. There's nothing to dwell on. Please just let me go.
Sandy

The cab driver's cigarette glowed in the dark emptiness of the cabin. As he ashed out the window, the embers faded and fell like shooting stars, burned up and worthless.

by Kate Gubert

"We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow... We love your face, we'd really like to sell you."

I'm not used to having something to lose. Something worth keeping. Worth hanging onto, no matter what the reason.

"I'll be as honest as I feel. I feel like I'm getting more paranoid cause I'm hearing things and they never turn out real... I gave up on the past cause it's unforgiving."

The past; I tried to suppress. I stripped it of its name and chased it into the deepest corners of my memory, to the darkest corners. I manipulated what it meant to me and turned from pain into illusory victory. I convinced myself that that was what I too wanted.

"That's when I said 'I love you...but I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have."

Things I feel I need to tell you...not because I expect an answer. I know there is no explanation. There is no reason for why I let everything go. So much more than you know. Without a thought, without a care. I fully expected you to take what you wanted and never return. Maybe that's why I still feel that I owe you more.

"So you sailed away, into a grey-sky morning. Now I'm here to stay..."

So they all left. And left you here. And who would blame me for clinging to you, the only one I've seen in the light of day? The only one I've held for longer than a high.

"I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of really anything, I can cut you into pieces... Please don't leave me."

These are a few of my favorite things...

Rain on my roof and your arms surround me,
Fire-colored leaves and your hands hold onto me.
Pink and black packs, spent; they taste like you,
These are a few things that remind me of you.

Soft white light and a slight breathless tremble,
Blue Moon, green eyes and the image they assemble.
Invincible desire, built so strong but unseen,
These are a few of my favorite dreams.

Fear of failure, needlessly kept you awake,
I never really leave you, part of me you'll never shake.
Frozen pain melts when spoken, and you kissed mine away,
These things I love most, I am never be able to say.

When empty darkness settles,
When self-doubt confines,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember that you are mine,
And then I don't feel so bad.

-Kate Gubert

I'm falling,
and I'm not denying it,
or trying to grab your hand,
cause this time,
I just might fly.

(I just need some space to spread my wings)

When my dream started, I was looking at pictures in a newspaper article of a girl covered in blood. She was crawling on the ground, half bent over, with blood pouring from her mouth and covering her eyes and nose. A man was chasing after her, beating her down with a long bladed knife. As I was being read the article by an enthusiastic, high pitched male voice, a doctor was wrapping my chest in white cotton bandages. The man reading the article was telling me about the incident related to the picture I saw and I soon caught on that I was the girl being stabbed. The man had come into my room while I was sleeping and though I don't remember anything, I had the wounds all over my body to prove that I was the recipient of over 20 gaping knife stabs. The article ended by saying that the victim (myself) died within a day after the attack. However, the article was only just written. I seemed to be the only one affected by the prediction that I was to die of my wounds within a few hours. The doctor told me that I had lost a lot of blood and that I would feel better in a few days and to replace the bandages regularly, although there were no stitches.
After resting for the remainder of the day, my family took me with them to a show downtown. The city was full of lights and we parked in a huge parking structure. Once we parked, I didn't feel so well and decided that I was going to walk home instead of going to the show. My family said they would meet me at home after. I stumbled down the ramps of the parking structure in what seemed like hours and somehow made my way back to our house. It had flooded and the ditches along the road were filled four foot deep with running water. I slipped as I was walking up our driveway and fell into the ditch. My jeans were ripped and shredded on the right leg and I was soaking wet, cold, sore, and muddy. After gingerly crawling into the house I attempted to change into some dry clothes. Blood had seeped through my bandages and was making my clothes stick to me. The wound that was bleeding the most was a gash running horizontally on my left side, just below my arm and stretching a quarter of the way around my body. As I unwrapped the length of bandage, I felt the hole in my chest, where my heart should have been, fill first with air and then blood as the opening gaped to about three inches. I was wondering why I had not gotten stitches, why I was not at a hospital, and why no one seemed to care, or even realize that I was dying.

"She knew there was something magical, something powerful, something mysterious about him that she couldn't explain. But it still came as a surprise when he reached up into the sky, pulled down the stars, and made a little heaven right here on earth."

[Work in Progress]

It's all about illusion,
It's all about dreamless nights,
It's all about not making you cry.

It's painting a picture,
coloring in all the blank spaces
between us.

You know were fine
because I talk like your mime.
Though I may fall on my pride
(I say you pushed me,
but we can never agree)
it's just like you to say I'm fine.

I've gotten back on my hands and knees now,
only to crawl back to you.
Like your clown,
"You're almost like her"
is one of the sweetest things
you'd say about me.

I'm out of time,
to feed your distraught self-esteem.
Your preaching machine
stood me in your lies.
Now I breathe you out, and
I spit them out.

(You don't want to hear me say it,
I don't want you to hear me say it,
I don't want to hear you say it,
but you never will.)

You think you're smarter than me,
with armor on your back.
I changed before you noticed
I confess,
you were too much help.

I gained a thicker skin towards you.
Something we don't talk about:
cause my friends, they
lift me up when I'm feeling down.
Something you never did for me.
Please don't take this to heart.

(You asked me to say it,
I never wanted you to hear me say it,
I don't want to say you heard it,
but you never will.)