Untamed Hearts

We both have different recallections of that night. Mabye the music was blaring so loud i couldnt hear the lyrics and the window was down a little too far for the weather. Mabye you were driving a little too fast, trying to keep up with the beating of our hearts. Mabye it was a little late and we didnt care. But that didnt stop us, nothing could stop us. We both have different recallections of what happened next. My hands on the dash board and your foot on the brake. The burning in my throat and the look on your face. The shards of glass cutting through my hands, cutting through my arms protecting my face. You trying to catch your breath but getting thrown back. Opening my eyes and seeing the blood, you lying there. Me trying to find my phone, I COULDNT FIND MY PHONE. Thats okay though, because i knew that you were already gone. Gone, gone past this world of unsenseness, and gone past these god damned teenagers, thinking that they know better.


The Waiting Room

The walls were orange.

What a strange color for a waiting room. They could have painted them a soft blue; one that made you feel calm and safe. But instead they painted them orange. A panick inviting, anxiety waiting, orange.

People pace back and forth, down the hallways s t r e t c h e d along the sides of the room and up the stairs next to a grand fish tank, where the innocent children play. All of the people walking by have a similar look in their eyes. A look of purpose, but strained with exhaustion. I want to stop each of them as they walk by and tell them not to worry, tell them everything will be okay. A yellow fish from the fishtank catches my eye as it gets caught up in a swirl of bubbles. The children point at them and laugh. They can’t feel the tension screaming in the air of hearts being shattered and loved ones being lost. They don’t know that the place they are in has heard more prayers than churches and seen more tears than funerals. But they will know one day. They will become familiar with the sinking in their stomach as they look up to see their loved one lying in the hospital bed; knowing there’s nothing they can do about it. They will come to know the shaking of their hands when the doctor has news to share with them. And they will know with every aching bone in their body, that we haven’t yet found a cure.

And I hope they do something about it.


My back touches the cold metal bar on the frame of my chair and I pull away when it shocks me. The air is thin which doesn’t help the stutter in my breath from holding back the ocean of tears behind my eyes. The AC blasts cool air out of the vents like a chilling breeze in winter and I get a shiver down my spine that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I look around for anything to distract me from thinking too much.

I’m nervous.

My eyes gaze around the room as my foot taps on the tiled floor. There are no clocks here. Almost as if they don’t want you to know that the operation is taking longer than they planned. Or that your 10:30 appointment is running a little late. I see people check their watches as they pick up pace and I look around some more. This place is poetic. It doesn’t need a poet to leave words caught along the grooves of the floor or hung up on the oxygen tanks. It does that all on its own. The smell of cleaning chemicals and latex gloves hits you when you walk through the door and stays with you long after you leave. When it first meets your nose, it lingers a little and then starts to creep down into your lungs and throughout your body. You can’t get it out.

I shift in my seat as a small girl in a lavender dress gets called by a doctor standing at the end of one of the halls where it meets the waiting room. She looks at me and smiles. I smile back and wish her a silent good luck. My hands toss and turn as I watch her disappear down the never ending hallway. I look next at the tv playing softly in the corner of the room where the wall meets the ceiling. The headline reads “ Trump’s plans on building a wall”.

Calming. Almost as calming as the color of the walls.

The sounds of elevator buttons and people talking makes me want to block my ears. Block out all of the sound. Get rid of the sinking of my stomach and the shaking of my hands. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he’s okay.

A short dark-haired doctor who seemed to come out of nowhere makes her way over to me. He is right behind her. He IS okay. I stand when they get closer. She tells me that he is okay to go home and that he should get plenty of rest. I nod my head and manage to get out a quiet “Thank you” from the shortness of my breath. She walks away down the hall and now I am left with him.

My heart flutters really fast and I can feel it start pumping blood back through my veins. A deep breath untrapes itself from my lungs and I can taste the dry sudden urge of relief in my mouth. I hug him tightly and he makes a few jokes. Our feet drag on the floor making a sound of pure fatigue as we head for the exit. The sliding door opens when it senses us. As my face touches the comforting fresh air from outside he says “what a strange color”. I don’t even need to ask what he was talking about.

“I think they should paint them blue” I reply.

The Ticking Heartbeat

Love is like a working clock in an abandoned house that was once home to a family

The walls that once echoed with laughter are silent and the chairs that used to be filled are covered in dust

The memories are scattered along the refrigerator and the fingerprints still mark up the mirror

Yet there the clock sits upon the paint chipped wall ticking, after all else has been deserted

It is evidence that at one time this wasn’t just a house, it was a home

If you listen close enough you can almost hear the stories these walls are screaming, for they have heard it all

The sun shines through the window on the photos that are still laid out on the hardwood floor

The people are long gone and the memories are faded

But my darling, the love just keeps on ticking.

Ocean of Dreams

Drifting off somewhere else when you close your eyes

Images of sparkling oceans and purple blue skies

You are your aspirations searching for something more

So you set sail hoping to find the shore


This shore is a land with the name of success

And only few will make it through this stormy mess

You will float in this ocean forever having ambitions that never come true

If you don’t swim towards them you will lose sight of the view


Like George and Lennie chasing the American Dream

You will find things don’t come easy and aren’t what they seem

A tsunami starts as a wave and a bean stalk a seed

All things considered you decide to pick up speed


You are sailing full force, eyes fixed on the land ahead

You sailed the entire ocean despite what they said

They told you you’d never make it, they told you you never would

But you proved all of them wrong because you knew that you could


It’s just a matter of time before your anchor reaches the shore

And you’re tired of rough seas you can’t sail them anymore

You know you have come a long way from where you have been

So you sit back and let the winds guide you in


But the winds and the current, they were never on your side

And before you knew it you were taken by the tide

You were swallowed by the waves of defeat and frustration

A mind and a storm of pure desolation


Water fills your lungs and your enemies grin

They knew you wouldn’t make it, they knew you’d give in

Drifting off somewhere else when you close your eyes

Images of raging oceans and dark grey skies


You knew one day all of your dreams would come true

And you were right, because nightmares are dreams too


The City

The city was full and busy with people from all over the world. All with different backgrounds and each with a different story. Every person mattered for they all had something important to share and something to teach. So as they met many people with many cultures, they held onto every word they heard and shared it with the next. As they passed on their stories, they slowly transformed into the beautiful stories they told.

In one building the people found themselves in darkness, so they became their own light. Each person became a star in the sky. Together they became a constellation to guide you home. Every star in the constellation mattered and if one was missing, you would lose your way.

In the next building they became raindrops. A single raindrop from the sky was merely a blur that catches your eye so together they formed clouds up ahead. They worked together and made the perfect storm. Winds howled, rain poured and thunder roared as they made a stand together.

In the next building after that was an ocean. Each person had a mind full of great thoughts that created a puddle. When they put all of them together, they created an ocean, miles deep with thought. They could never make the mile journey alone, so they set sail together.

Even the sun came to Earth to see how the people had changed. For they were just people, individual in thought but since they kept looking for everything beautiful in this world, they eventually became it. Alone, they could make a spark but together, they could make a wildfire. Alone, they could make a difference but together, they could change the world.

– madison riley


You thought the moon and the earth and how it got here was a miracle. You thought the stars were the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. You thought the ocean was the deepest creation on this earth, and you thought it was worth drowning in. You thought the sunset was the only thing worth watching. You thought all of these things; until you met her

– madison riley

The Beautiful Tragedy

I was going to keep the flowers

I was going to try

But the the night grew longer

And I let them die

Each petal a memory

Scattered along the floor

And your name doesn’t

Make me smile anymore

The loss of a lover, the loss of a friend

Theres over in a lover and end in a friend

But I was going to keep the love

I was going to try

But the night grew longer

And I let the love die.

– madison riley