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she was a stormcloud, and you loved her,
and the two of you took walks and wore
nothing but promises,
broken chains and
strands of pinkish pearls.

and the two of you kissed under trees that attracted silver lightning
(metal branches scraped the sky, and you, always faithful,
tipped your coat over her head to keep her dry.)

but she never stayed that way.
in an instant, she had whirled into the rain
and danced without clothes,
without cares,

without you.

and she left you
with the pain of frostbite on your naked skin
where you trusted her to kiss you warm,
and you thought you heard her laughter
when the sun came out again the next day,

and the next.

she was a stormcloud, and you loved her,
and you didn't know it at the time but

stormclouds lie
(and they never
love you
back. )

Not revised, due to inability to focus for long periods of time. I hope this is readable. :X
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you asked me for a poem.

sometimes i fall in love with words
and wish that words
would fall for me.

you want a poem? how about the darkness of the morning
when the sun still rubs the night from his eyes,
the dew on the grass and how your feet jump from the itch.

how about the laughter of a creek or the roar of the ocean,
there, that's a poem.

you want a poem?
ask me about watermelon kisses
or how a blackberry whispers love to the backs of my teeth.
ask me how my lips know every curve of my knees
and my spine knows the unyielding wall,

ask me about sunsets and the giants who paint them,
who gave the frog his croak, and why,
why the ravens never seem to cackle
on those dark and maddening nights.

how about the way the muse and i do things
that make her a saint and i a sinner?

how about the soft hiss of my breath when my mouth falls open,
the crust that sleeps in my eyes until i scrape it away.
this too is a poem.

you asked for a poem?
the way honey drips off a spoon,
the taste of raindrops,
long nights in the darkness mouthing words to someone,


aching, longing,
the hurt that wedges itself behind the brain.

the way tigers' paws make you tremble,
the way her fingers make you tremble.
trembling for something,

having something worth trembling for.

a poem is just some words
worth trembling over.

and over,
and over.

(when the ravens cease to cackle
And there you have it.
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i want to talk to you
in between touches
but you seem so far away
and my words are as lost
as the chances
i would have to feel you
beneath me
it is bitter sweet
that i may only
write down such desires
and i fear that i will
be doing so
all night
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once i spoke to the balding forest,
hushhushhush cried the wind and he
knifed through my jacket
like flames lick ice like
lovers find reasons to peel off clothes,

i stroked the branches
of the sycamore and
felt its long, smooth trunk and the letters
wayward lovers
scraped dreamily in the bark, and
they said

let someone else grow up with our regrets,
let our names stretch and bend
and remind us
that once upon a time we didn't cringe at
warm wet breath on the
backs of necks,


at least i was innocent as i
lumbered back and forth over frozen ground
like some lost and lonely stormcloud,
like some flame guttering before dying out,

at least i was as many cupfuls of insanity as i could swallow
before my stomach
tricked my brain tricked my heart into thinking
"this is all okay,
everything's okay."

(and at least my name is not expanding
somewhere in a forest,
carved lazily into trees that
grow and grow in spite of
all their broken love.)

palsied branches and the forest and the moonlight, and

I spoke to the balding forest,
hushhushhush cried the wind but i
howled until my lungs dried up
and my chest filled with all the sighs
that the earth and the wind and the trees couldn't hold,

i felt somewhere the aching of the sycamore,
whose branches sway and hurt
until its grown:

a canvas for someone else's love

and still
Oh lookie there, a deviation! 

Don't carve names into trees, darlings. ;)
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Some small curl of smoke,

across a mess of sheets;

a tilted query masked in breath...

...perhaps someone just spoke.

Cold fingers against moist skin,

blinking at those floating protein strands,

back and forth into breathless silence...

as they say..."better out than in."

Rolling that curl around your tongue,

while my mouth goes numb with cotton;

because that ceiling is falling...

...with a twilight that just won't come.

And the onyx is as sweet,

as the darkness beneath

laughter dances....finality drenches the tips

of weary wandering feet.
to expound a tad. this isn't about too much of anything except when you're in complete or partial darkness and silence. alone or accompanied(as in this case)...falling asleep...when hypersensitive of those semi-formed thoughts and mental murmurs....of skin on skin and heartbeat...kinda loopy but greatly significant to me
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our backs pressed stories into the hillside.
mine was short and deep
and yours grew long and crooked .
the grass died beneath us when the sun sank below the hill.

    ii. "when the clouds change shape,
    that's when i leave you,"
    and i cried as they shifted with your breath.
      "don't forget me."
      iii. "i'll be back in the springtime.

      try not to miss me."
        iv. i missed you in places i never knew i had, and the night fell down around me and it was all i could do to hold up an end of its black blanket to let the moon pass through. and when the morning came, i ached for you.
          v. you telephoned, "babe, don't miss me."

            "you say that as if it's easy."

          "we're dreamers, babe. everything is easy."
            vi. winter. this bed is full of dream-husks. they keep me turning until the morning. i am unrecognizable.
              vii. spring. "listen, babe.
              i'll be longer than i thought.

              the nights are cold here
              but i'm more alive than ever.
              don't worry about me."
              black shadows stole your memory, bit by bit until i couldn't recall your face.
                viii. summer. "the woods are dark.

                i'm coming home."
                  ix. fall. "did you miss me?" your lips on my cheek burned and stung. "no."

                  "you lie."
                  a laugh, a kiss. "forgetting me wasn't that easy."
                    "we're dreamers, babe. everything is easy."
Commissioned by :iconlucain24:. Topic was "dreamers." Not one of my best, but meh. I can't complain, I guess. I hope you like it!
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I pick up my skirt and slip off my shoes
so I can dance on the dusty
line between abject poverty and hope

because the kids in the broken cement homes know this paycheck
won't cover bread and I gotta distract them somehow.

I prayed my
whole life for my A's and gold stars to mean
something, but God doesn't check
report cards when he's giving out miracles,

and I'm done pretending being good will
pay the electric bill.
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One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale. Eyes focused on his chest.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hands crossed as if you were praying.

Inhale. Hold your breath. Pinch his nose. Lock lips. Exhale.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Don't give up on me now!" Dizzy feeling.

Inhale. A tear falls. Hold your breath. Muffled cry. Exhale.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Shoulders in agony."Please! Breathe!"
Written for 100 themes challenge. Variation 2 challenge 10.

Please tell me your thoughts on this piece.


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