cyclic motioni. every sad story starts with love.cyclic motion3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ii. there is you sprawled across the bed
with your ankles tangled in cotton covers
and the golden waves of sunlight
breaking themselves through fissured glass
to drip into your hair like bright honey,
your hands reaching upward
as if they were young birds waiting on wings.
you wept for those flightless, wet-beaked children
anchored helplessly to your wrists
but their hearts were not as weak
as the foreign fist beating in your chest. they collapsed
and only left behind
the impressions of dying constellations
they had scratched beneath your eyelids.
iii. at dusk i watched the night take you in waves, glowing,
and said you were the most beautiful thing
i had ever known.
it was a lie. the want of a thing
is always more beautiful than the thing itself.
these are the quiet things we do not tell--
the secrets touched only in the dark
when hearts are laid open
and everything else forgets to exist.
iv. i whispered that to myself when the last shadow
A La Douce MemoireTo explain: Dear _______A La Douce Memoire3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
broken calligraphy drawn with wrinkled, wise fingers
across thousands of charcoaled and
frayed telephone lines, our science:
telltale tree-house stories
of success over cups of unstirred, bleak
chai lattes. Sparkles glittering behind blue-eyed metaphors
and a casualty of chance. Collateral damage.
She will be
his sodden breath, soaked between
years and earth and birds and gravity and
gravestones-- the chemistry behind
the existence of God.
À la douce mémoire.
The Quiet Thoughts of Butterfliesshe says "I'm worried if I breatheThe Quiet Thoughts of Butterflies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
too loud the silence will
I watch her hands press butterfly
wings between the pages.
does she know that
I'm the queen of silence?
my corpse lungs and
graveyard lips; a decomposing
tongue lurking behind white-washed
tombstones. paint me with sunbeams,
I'm still the same.
[death warmed over]
her tropic gaze rakes over
the bone-white snow. "I keep
swallowing the snow-flakes. they
remind me of frozen flowers.
their dead sweetn
Gonna Soarcaught me a birdie&brokeGonna Soar3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her birdie neck, hollow-boned,
sounded more like a crinkle than a snap
really you'd hardly be sure it were
until you've got its
in your unregretful hand
gonna braid her wings into my hair,
gonna raise her birdie babies as my own,
gonna jump off this cliff with them in arms,
I'm not listening anyhow.Make them believe thatI'm not listening anyhow.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All the people in the world are
That only you and I can
Understand when we close our eyes and
Run so far away with our thoughts like a
Buzz in the back of our brains because
Anatomy is something that we still haven't
Thought too much about
In the dark behind our eyelids that will
Only visit us when
No one else is around.
your voice sounds lke swimmingshe liked to scribbleyour voice sounds lke swimming3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her hearts whisperings
onto delicate paper napkins
in the middle of crowded restaurants
while all the couples
sometimes she scribbled them down
and her tears would erase them
before anyone else could ever
be touched by them
one night she felt like she was drowning
in the way his voice would raise
and fall like a steady tide
and she scribbled down
we learn to swim
when we begin to drown.
and your voice reminds me of swimming
so i might just climb inside you mouth
and float awhile
Visibility, His Abilitytwin forearm saplingsVisibility, His Ability3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a Spring frenzy they shatter each metacarpal
Gypsy bones won't contain this reckless green fever.
In Realtime let's grow fonder,
no sense in [still] waiting [still] for daylight to move the shade over to us.
This sky doesn't end;
your eyes stop it
What keeps you rooted
Keeps you from me
Mightlava eyesMight3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
why you aimed them at me
grass gone to seed, she
lets Summer's heavy breath slither in through her pores
he watched her brain melt and seep
w i d e s p r e a d fingers
& these webs that could not hold held what could not catch hold
TimingShe lost herself in the sweet air after the rain, savouring the scent of damp earth and damp hair and shampoo lingering faintly on his pillow case.Timing3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
he had gone, like the train he missed,
es for the girl who lay still on his sheets.
She sank into herself, with heavy lungs she pulled the weight of the world and tucked it beneath her bones. She ran the streets, cracking pavement under the weight of her weightless feet.
he meant to love in threes and
cry for twos,
but broken fingers make for quiet dreams,
rusted strings and restless sleep.
October 2ndDearest Nobody,October 2nd2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you told me I was
like novels about suicide and
dreaming with open eyes
on sleepless nights
of girls who breathe
like pale sands and
on the mid-July days
in the humid haze of the afternoon sun
settling on my skin.
I am muscles and breaths sweeter when your
palms press my shoulders
and I melt into the valley of the crook
of your arm.
nobody, in December you
walked this way
trailing snow in your path,
we were ice-skate dancing, swaying,
beneath the azure rooftops,
singing songs of the Atlantic.
lost you. no?
I could lose my voice in the billowing wind
as she blows,
Leave me speechless in summerI'd like to blow you kisses like red, red leaves andLeave me speechless in summer3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tape your lips to my favourite mug.
Spread my (mind) like an open book
and I'll love you long past the days
your dog-eared corners fade.
"He sang me something like
honeysuckles in a secret garden,
he wrote me lifetimes and pages
hollowfalling in lovehollow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is like plucking ribs, and
each time you've fallen
you're another bone closer
to cardiac arrest
TourniquetI stand crying over the kitchen sinkTourniquet3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
reeling back and forth so hard
that I hit the tap
and watch as my broken dreams
spill out of a fresh gash.
I spend my free time searching through spare fantasies
for a tourniquet; anything
to stop the flow of thought.
Its funny how I fight to forget us,
and struggle to remember you.
Every so often I cant recall
the way you drug your feet as you walked
or exactly how much I loved your voice.
Im losing you again...
Just another dropped call
on the worlds most reliable network
because all I am is a number;
a few digits
not worth remembering
So as I run mine through my hair
and let out a sigh in the absence of sleep
I close the cemetery gates that have come to be my eyes
and rest uneasy.
JetsamI've been attempting suicide nightly.Jetsam3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Putting pen to temple and firing a single,
for the sonnets i'll never writedead leaves covered our bodies as the chill grew wet, scratching patterns on our skin, mapping the faded lines and scars we took for dead. they complete our dried-up geography, each one a memoir, the dirt off god's hands.for the sonnets i'll never write2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my own dead hands will map your corpse-like chill, they cycle the small bumps and ducts dotting the moments between our imaginations and your reality.
i remember, through our steady explorations in oceans of skin, the way your mind hurls, destroys itself. that mind reminds you of the empty space between your thoughts and the air stirring realness along your clumsy teeth, rooting you to this jail of a world. with the help of mystics and surreal smoke you squeeze yourself between malleability and the shivery kiss of floating.
is it me, circumnavigating every movement of those shadowy eyelashes?
is it me who dreams of you, occurring to selfish scenes at the back of my mind, hoarding the taste of those teeth in my tongue's attic?
i just hope you find the will to stay thro
FracturesMy soul drifted through my eyelashesFractures2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and glittered over an ocean
of buried hope and trials,
to make it to you,
to whisper these words
when you wouldn't let me speak.
My heart ran away,
through my chest
and away, away, to the forest of your arms,
where it always rightfully belonged.
And I lay here,
my breaths leaving my lungs
and tucking away under your skin,
begging, begging, to stay with what
made them whole.
Nightmares of: Sunset Girl( ) loves the Sunset girl on theNightmares of: Sunset Girl2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dry mornings with the chalky fingers
and the chemistry in her brain
dancing on the fine lines of the edge of her universe
indicating the end and
( ) falls asleep to nightmares of
freezing on a newspaper bedding
while Sunset sheets of silk and satin
froze like the ice in her lemonade
cut round pieces of the moon
to serve to Sunset on afternoons
with cosmic rings and starry dunes
as ( ) falls prey to nightmares of
window painsthese pores overflowwindow pains2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and my eyelashes fall away
one by one onto my legs
then off to an ocean,
sleeping on its lilt
as i shrivel into a wish-less wreck
against a bedroom wall,
with leaks from last month's rain
washing the nail chippings
from my protruding shoulders.
and i quiver,
my hair pooling my thoughts
behind my ears
as your name comes floating
through the spaces of the panels
i built to keep you in,
but within which, you never entered,
while the dream-less nights
became an eternal winter
and my clothing became an exhibition
of traumatic unreliability
for things you'd promised would happen.
LightsThe assemblage of choking hazardsLights2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
covered my violet feet as I,
in my lucid dream,
called the names of people I believed
My streaming veins
sat in a nest around my waist
and I waited for the rain,
a cold shower conflated with
Smiles ephemeral, too,
I waded into the flood
in search of light.
PicturesI like the way your summertime poetics spiral from the bluest of skies/like polished replicas of your hurricane eyesPictures2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so that's when he turned,
running like the world was spinning away from under his feet
in dizzy delirium,"
"and what did he say?"
jump on the sailboat and float
away- riding on the backs of
dipping in and out of human dreams, collecting wishes and
Oh you, oh you are
too true to me.
washouthello,washout2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i feel i'm living under your eyelids. even when the circuit breaks and the electricity sputters out in a shock. we're swallowing darkness and blinking back sparks. i'm warm in the empty home of your pupils.
it's been too long in this monster shaped darkness i've succumbed to since you taught me the proper way to cry. salt mines paint my snow cold face as my wishing well tear ducts wait to stop coming alive. silver platters should be proceeded with caution because within a breath their ghost touch is teaching you the meaning of goodbye.
today i've painted my eyes to blend with the salt festering your wounds, in a glitter of blood and steel. when i can taste you i'm only afraid of the ghosts that lurk in unfeeling corners, watching through dead sky, and fermenting in the pieces of life they forgot to live. they bask in the language of salutations i've forgotten, planted deep in my larynx. i remember every goodbye, but i've never known the flashed tongue of meeting, g
Letter to SelfYou're sick from reading too much literature, fat from the words contained in your thrumming veins. You're unsatisfied as of yet, and it's not anyone else's turn to tell you why. Not now. Your tiredness is beginning to weigh on your shoulders. You want water lanterns in the shining dark. Your hair is short, certainly, but not stark enough to startle yourself into pleasure. You need more typewriter ribbons. You need more clothes. You need sleep.Letter to Self3 years ago in Letters More Like This
There are black strips hanging from your ceiling and a coin in currency you can't even use lying on your bedside table. There is a thirty-seven stanza poem waiting to be copied out onto rented-for-nothing-walls. There is a silent shut door, faint murmurings from women below, crumpled sheets. There is sweat.
There is the feeling that something right is being done, and it passes.
You have bruises on your pale knee from political compromise. You have tangential reasons for everything you do. You have a siren for a sometimes-friend that you insist o
The Story of Could've-BeenI bore stains of blueberry jamThe Story of Could've-Been3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the skirt of my best-and-only Sunday's dress.
We held hands under the morning table,
suffering spells of not-quite winter and
you whispered like a true misanthrope-
I held on to your heart,
thinking that you hated that too.
I smiled at you with lips that learned
to swallow your words,
constructing hints of promises,
subtle exchanges of
well hidden passion-
you wouldn't believe
the poet in you.
Mon amour, vous étiez comme un fantôme,
the "could've-been"s that shook my dreams,
the wispy fragments of a love that pooled
in cupped hands, smelling sweet,
still lingering on fingertips,
long after drained.
Dresses wash and
Now in my head,
the words come dry as
contradictionsthe paint is feathering off the wallscontradictions3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my porcelain mask is peeling off of my face
in two days' time,
we'll lose the solution to the ugly truth.
being dipped in acid, losing layers
not the best way to lose weight but i'll take it
and the irony
is that i never should have been here in the first place
will-o'-the-wisps are reaching out for me
luring me in with promises of dead silence
and for one
who thrives on music, i'm pitifully tempted
vices squeezing down, restricting my brains
when they whispered that they'd let me go
it's funny how
gullible i was to believe someone like myself.