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my spinal cordI both fear and anticipate the day
when I finally come back to earth
and I and my suitcases smell just like you.
They told us falling in love is ethereal and sweet
but I promise these are lies;
falling in love creates the brightest of fires in the darkness we fear.
This fire is prone to flickering on and off
burns you if you venture too close
but you will eventually wither if you don't stay near.
It lights your pathways with daydreamy burning
but casts strange shadows on what you once knew
causing you to let the flames lick you just so you feel something.
You are all angled bones and roped sinew
and I am all stocky and short and a little too curvy
and that's just fine with me.
It is impossible to create bodies out of words
or intimacy with just nervous sex
and spacelessness with spaces.
The closest thing I have to touch
is the wind running her fingers through my hair
and my cat lying still and warm beside me.
I both fear and anticipate the day
when I finally look beside me
and we have
fallI made a tower so lofty and tall for myself
built out of all the accomplishments and sweet words bestowed upon me
and then I sat there, unsure of if I should climb higher or stop while I'm ahead.
I am now standing on the edge of a dark precipice,
all the snarling, twisting darknesses at the bottom
threatening to tear me back into their grasp.
I have fought them before and I have won
but it took my wrists and sensitivity with the blue ribbon.
Can you hear me, screaming for anyone to offer a shoulder?
We are both facing demons of unspeakable horror, my dear
yours behind and mine ahead.
Remember those glory days of diamond confidence?
Do you remember what it felt like to look high and proud
instead of burying myself inside of cybernetics
old pages full of confused words
and vague nonsense about nothing relevant?
Oh, oh, do you remember what it was like, sweetheart
when I didn't speak with this confused emptiness
when glow and dazzle were my middle and maiden names?
He loves me because I a
PuzzleWe are puzzles, and we are each aching to solve each other.
Between us, there are technicoloured Lego pieces from older models and older times
there are bits of twine which were once guitars and our best friend bracelets and heart strings
there are pieces of paper which once folded into one another as perfectly as we do each other.
Between us, there are jigsaw pieces from Sunday school boredom and rainy afternoons
there are nails and screws nestled in the splinters of projects you once completed with your brothers
there are the glistening shards of a broken bottle I once threw into a mirror because I thought I could not be ever put together.
Between us, there are the frays of emotions we have worried on because we care too much
there is the empty space of our words which we try to use to express what cannot be expressed
there are the too-quickly ended kisses and the too-slow to start gazes which are crystal in our memories.
Between us, there are unfinished novels, thoughts, ideas, word
lovers in the sukkahI have a special talent for bringing things back to life.
He's a bit like a campfire in a way. He burns deep and hot and confuses fireflies and draws in stragglers who like a pretty sight. Feed him, and he'll burn brilliant hot and wane back down to a slow devouring.
'I won't let you fall,' the little boy smiled, holding onto the hem of my shirt as I swung wildly and clung to the tire swing.
I inevitably did fall, but it's the thought that counts, his little fingers digging into the cloth.
The sky twisted, black velvet courting midnight.
The sun and wind play with my hair while an old sailor's rope digs his arms into my hips and bruises unapologetically.
I never know when to say no to you.
Every time I see you, it is by mere miracle. I do not know if my god approves, or just plays tricks with my heart for Job's amusement.
Fire breaks the bones of the earth just as fast as it breaks my heart.
We have started breaking so many traditions and so many customs that we have had to reinvent th
a little fasterwhat's it like to breathe soft and slow, guilt-free and beside yours?
how does it feel to run till your knees burst and your shins sever and your bones crush?
where are you in your puritanical slitherings, all twine and brown and tender things?
when do yours and I's silhouettes brush at the mouths?
why do all the pretty little insects of summertime hurt like I do in the barest sensibilities?
what are you, all jagged wingblades, honeyed summer hair, and snowflake eyes?
how am I to spin a cocoon when the carmines all conspired to eat straight to the juice?
where do we go when we've gone everywhere, the purgatory of traveling?
when will my teeth stop spitting out these foul little questions for my fowl little friends?
why do I love you still?
what is essentialEmpty thatches of wheat beating back against the wind --
that is what reminds me of you.
I am one of St. Christopher's lovers stepping quicksilver all 'cross the globe
but I am not a faithful girl
for all I really want is for someone to sit in a field with me, at four o'clock each noonday
calling on me, beckoning with spicy apples and bitter herbs.
Even the strangest of nightmares doesn't scare
but reality in all her tender fragility, terrifies every lingering sentiment of myself.
'Let me make this simple do you like me still?'
I have the worst sort of burning habit about breaking down everything
and leaving the pieces in a pretty sort of disarray on battlegrounds
cutting fingertips in order to stay awake to what end?
Technology is a cheap imitation of human intimacy
but what happens when we become the faux mirror images ourselves?
RetrospectionEat my heart like they ate the king's heart,
skewer it on a piece of river cane and nibble at it like the burnt crust of a marshmallow.
Once upon a time the princess sat on quicksilver waterfalls
and told herself she didn't believe in princesses, therefore she should die.
He slid the vermilion pepper into her wide mouth and told her to shut her teeth
the burning echoed in every cavity of her chickadee body.
Overdue library books gather dust on the desk, listless with the empty promises
of love and sunshine she once imparted on their dry pages.
The slivers of tiger lily fish squirm in the dwindling water
and she promises to add more every day and it grows less and less each night.
Barely started, unfinished diaries sleep on the shelves of a stained bookshelf
along with childhood toys of names long forgotten and misremembered.
The princess was never bothered enough to buy a torchlight so she fetched a lantern
from some dusty store on the street with a little dust-girl and dust
Bells on my wristHe pointed lazily at the ceiling while we laid under a sheet of faux snow
we took a picture out of exhaustion and while I stared at it to avoid staring at you
I've memorized the hole-pecked tiles and the ceiling fan
and the warmth of your twitching hand in mine
which blindly squeezes when you forget your dreams.
Like wolves under observation we curled lazily in the see-through glass room
head on my lap, my hands in yours
rubbing away temptations and fears and breaths and doubts
and struggling to memorize every little nuance of you
when memorizing Juliet's cries were far easier for me.
She doesn't understand we hadn't the time for modesty or resistance in those days
I thought this as you asked me if I wanted to stand and I said no
because what use was standing when your touch is a baseball bat to the knees
and we were doing something far more dangerous then fighting with knives
we were having our first kiss all coiled on a leather couch in a lazy summer rain.
A rash flushed full-bloom a
ignition pulseAnd you took a wooden match and struck it across the lines of the space between us
how it sparked, how it roared alive
the dizzy little fuse wire I ran about ourselves without a care began to alight
little flames raced across the streaks of gasoline we thought were tears
and then our hearts were on fire
and I let out a breath of darkened flesh-smoke
only to realize we set the whole world on fire, baby, we set the whole damn world positively aflame.
LemonsIf life gives you lemons
Make hot chocolate <3
It warms your heart
Dries your tears
Makes you smile
Vanquishes your fears
Have a cup with me
And together we'll make
A perfect fantasy
sometimes hate is not enoughi feel guilty
because the chances are
i'll ruin your life
and all i'll do afterwards is write about it
PerdicionTe conocí en invierno, las calles cubiertas de nieve, el frió carcomía nuestras pieles,
tu piel pálida y congelada, intentado calentar tus manos.
Ese día, aquel donde sentí un fuerte impulso de hablarte en cuanto te vi, sentado en la banca del parque moviendo tus piernas para entrar en calor, solo guiada por un impulso
me acerque a ti, te di mi bufanda y gantes, luego solo me fui.... sin preguntarte
tu nombre, ni de donde eras, ni que hacías, solo me fui.
Días pasaron, y no te volví a ver, creí que solo fue coincidencia el haberte encontrado para evitar que murieras congelado, pero increíblemente nos reencontramos en mi cafetería favorita, te distinguí de inmediato por que traías puesta mi bufanda y guantes..... aun recuerdo tu rostro confundido ... como si buscases a alguien.
Recuerdo tu rostro iluminarse cuando giraste en mi dirección. Me dijiste que mi bufanda tenia olor a
I Love You.
Oh, gorgeous goddess!
How your beauty tantalizes me!
Leaving a dumb statue
In my place.
How can You,
O Great and Majestic One,
Sitting on your golden throne,
In the sky,
Have created such a girl
As the one I see
Oh how my heart flutters!
Sweet angel, you gave
Wings to my
You blessed a poor soul,
With that wonderful magic
Only you possess.
I will give
I will cross the world for you,
I will serve you,
I will think only of you,
I will do anything for you!
If only I can
Hold your delicate hand,
Skin so smooth,
Soft as silk,
And be with you,
Every step of your way,
To comfort you
In your sorrows,
he's got a girlfriend anywaywe both know
that it's hard to write about
it's taken me seven months to start
while you slept, i burnt your crimson sheets
and painted your ceiling purple
part of me thought you might understand
i was trying to show you how i felt
i was being brave
it was how i wanted to tell you
but i was destroying more than i created
(just spread your love
set fire to the storms)
i tried to tell you
but i was tied to tracks
and it's too close for the train to miss me when it stops
if there is still a chance
you might need me
you will find me where we fell in love
sitting under cherry dark skies
with shaking fingers crossed
and blood stained lips locked
24 not-poems later1.
it is so hard to be okay
when all i've got are cigarettes
the voices of strangers
and memories of you
it's so hard to be okay
when you hate yourself
for not being okay
all i want is to hear you say
that you love me
so that for five seconds,
i can believe it;
just a few moments
of being alright
i wonder what you would do
with the letters i have written
but never given you
with the truth that i have known
but never told
if i swim
until my arms could no longer
hold me up - you wouldn't
even have a body to say goodbye to
i wonder what you would do
if i wrote right here
that it was you
i wonder what you would think about
and what we have done; the love
that we have destroyed
with our cowardice and our weakness
like a windowsill plant
left out in summer
i wonder what you would think
if the last thing i tol you
was that i loved you
god damn you kissed me hard
when you left
as if you knew it would be the last time
what if it was
the last time
you would never have to catch another moth for m
LovesicknessI've only known you for a few days,
Yet still this longing feeling stays.
It makes me hate my in active ways,
I need a distraction, for the longer I laze,
The more I think of how you amaze.
Without your touch I feel so alone,
Anywhere near you could feel like home.
So please let me near, it's my heart that you own!
After all, you said that you love me so dearly,
Do why can't I hug you at least yearly?
A State of Consistent Emptiness“Are you feeling better now?”
I feel I have to lie somehow
But instead truth comes spilling out
Before I cork my mouth
With a never mind,
Save it for another time
When I am open to sharing
I know that it will come someday
A point of self-reflection
And everything so huge
Will get smaller, easier, and less dramatic
But for now I swoon over you in the dead of night
Assisted by the bloodied objects of my plight
And I wonder when that day will come
When there is something I set my sights on
And strive to be it
Floating, falling dangerously
Like a dandelion above water
And like a small child you are the only one
Who actually wants me in their lawn
Who might actually miss me when I’m gone
And sometimes I want to strangle myself
Just to see if I’m worth saving
But still I ignore and consent to drown
I’m better off when I cannot breathe
More in touch when I cannot see
And so I bite your hand away
With my last breath
And then I sink into the abyss
All of my regrets
The girl he loves...
The girl he loves is not perfection.
But the girl he loves doesn't have much depression.
The girl he loves is too talkative.
The girl he loves is crazy and wild.
The girl he loves is much much expressive.
The girl he loves can be over-obsessive.
The girl he loves is pretty but she denies it.
The girl he loves is always laughing and smiling.
The girl he loves can't rhyme or rap.
But the girl he loves is me.
And that's a fact.
SymphonicUnlike Romeo, I am not in love with the idea of being in love.
True, the emotions slipping within the crevices of this heart are intriguing and indolent,
but what really captures my excitement at such ventures
is writing about being in love.
Writing (placing numbed fingers to keys) about love is perhaps sweeter than actually being in love.
But I question my motivations so commonly nowadays I'm never quite sure how I feel.
Writing about this emotion, then, whatever we choose to call it
is sweet contemporary lilting with chimes and quirks at staccato movements.
Perhaps my heart has not yet known the dancing of love
but it does know how thrilling and innovating thinking you are at least
writing about such tragic emotions and comedic fluttering.
The muse has struck his chord.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More