Ask Me To Write a PoemAsk me to write a poemAsk Me To Write a Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
about kissing witches in my sleep.
Ask me to write a poem
about the bump on my middle finger
from forcing pen to paper.
Ask me to write a poem
about the discolored bruises on my knees
the poetry written in ink upon my flesh
the love in a foreign tongue on my wrist.
Ask me to write a poem
my possessive Siamese,
about my rose thorn teeth,
and the battle scars I wear like trophies.
Ask me to write a poem
about how my own words make me sick,
about how I swear I'll die by the pen.
Ask me to write a poem
about boys and peaches
and how I wish they tasted just as sweet,
about how I sanded away layer, after layer
after layerjust to see if I really bleed ink.
Ask me to write a poem.
OmegaThere is a wolf lurking in my doorway;Omega3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
our eyes holding breathless conversations
as secrets whisper through the stroke of my pen
into the awaiting lungs of strangers.
Soon young pup, you'll have nothing left to say.
My heart is woven together with tight-knit words,
blood red Poe, and thumping Hemingway-
Yet, no headstrong Omega sleeps
within this slightly cracked, ribcage embrace.
"I am unafraid of forests with teeth."
N o v ai.N o v a3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
She has the moon in her eyes.But, this body is a black hole,She has the moon in her eyes.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a hollowed out womb-
and these palms are sandpaper
thin and bleeding a silent stigmata.
"Not yet ripe to fall from her bed,
too young to understand her own limbs-"
She folds back July's origami skin,
wishing for the warmth of winters kiss.
She is a raven heart, thumping wildly
against the whispers of vintage lips.
Her bed is empty,
but the sheets are red.
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,A Gods Debt3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.
Lonely Gods"I wish my body to be a staircaseLonely Gods3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to heaven." She said, "A conduit
of lonely Gods."Swaying
pendulum hips, she, she
was made of stardust.- Scars sleeping
above a city of sweet bones, stirring
like sun-stricken scorpions during
hollow painkiller nights,
mistaking her redred burns
for Apollos kisses.
"Sadly, this body has whispered away
the last of my secrets."
Her Musethese words are not poetryHer Muse3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
swimming liquid fire through ashes
of dead phoenix veins.
no, they are rough and callused
with over use, their own faithless artists
spewing black tar from their lungs
in the hopes to one day breathe again.
nothing moves her.
she would rather scribble her heart out
on physical manifestations of her own reality-
on skin and bones she worships like a temple.
"Write of me," he says, "right here."-
planting sun-stricken kisses
along the hollow of her burning throat.
"I want to be where your heart sleeps."
NecromancyShe replaces her wristsNecromancy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the sharp thorns
of roses and slurred
as she speaks
in an old tongued
language that whispers
She collects stars
on her knuckles,
& her dust eyes
are sad moon nebulas
starved for love.
But, the kisses
she sinks into the curve
of her lover's ribcage
by night, warm that
WillowYour confessional arms are Willow trees,Willow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
draping lonely limbs around an empty ink-jar heart.
Scars worn down like henna tattoos.
A night witch scrawling her incantations on blue moons,
rolling her letters into sentences like a curse.
But, it is in these coffee eyes you have found a home.
Sweat, Spice, and ScarsYour eyes,Sweat, Spice, and Scars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
I want my insides back.
Stephanie -Collab(I wrote us in free verse over every inchStephanie -Collab3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of your tattered surface ).
you were the beatific grin
of a kindergartener high off oxygen,
mouth stretched wide as the entrance to hell,
black tongue bleeding virtuous sin like ichor.
(You taught me praying was for the weak
as I fell for your gypsum nails,
white teeth scrabbling over my chalkboard frame).
scribbled flesh tells no love story
but three layers of skin
worn thin along the length of our feverish bones.
(Garden flowers tucked away worms and dirt,
my ribs hoarded misspellings of my mother's name).
dipping your origami limbs into my ink,
you lost yourself within the dark tangles
of my labyrinth roo
Sometimes, you enjoyed being blind.Over 1,000 letters have found their waySometimes, you enjoyed being blind.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the pulsating heart of my wastebasket.
You carried them away saying, "I'll use these
to fill the empty spaces of my universe."
You proceeded to tape them to your eyelids,
wear them like Augusts leaves along your limbs.
"I will be your voice and I will sing your words to the trees."
Slender spider fingers prancing across my misspelled scrawl.
I miss you, and i can't say i'm sorryI miss you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because these slender, spider fingers
ache to trace the curved letters of your name tag,
emily. i notice you write everything in caps.
( have i ever told you
how much i enjoy saying your name, -EMILY. )
you are screaming to the world, quietly.
but we, we are mid-morning whispers
over stale, back room coffee,
silent eyes, and window pane love.
these hearts were runaways once;
hitchhikers on a trail to nowhere.
you shared pieces of yourself with me then,
emily, between beats and bathroom stalls.
you were a gargoyle under the heat
of july summer. evenings were our playground;
rose garden beasts lingering in feverish night.
Never trust ladies with scythes for smiles.i.Never trust ladies with scythes for smiles.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
these god-hands are barbwire's,
snagging & scarring everything
black tongue bleeding sweet ichor
along the guarded walls
of skeletal frames.
'i want to taste heaven.
it rests there,
just beneath your bones.'
he is a
made of scythes & scalpels,
sewn together with weak thread.
and she is a borrowed tree.
lips that beg, & limbs that snare
will carry him to his grave.
'shh, my sweet-
close your eyes, &
i'll sacrifice you to the heavens.'<i>
Poetry,She is stardust leaving sweet bonesPoetry,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in her wake. A trail of poetic destruction
conceived in verse--answering questions
with kisses. There is a hunger in her
freckled constellations, like spider webs
woven together with golden thread.
Like the wild roses she braids in her hair:
She walks backboned and head held high;
the strongest of letters on a page
left to rest in your mouth.
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 102 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
It tastes like love.I could speak of her in riddles,It tastes like love.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in aged, anatomy textbook terminology-
but, I wont.
You see, I cuffed this angel to my bedpost.
I sank my teeth into feathers she wore like a cage
and asked if I was dreaming, because Love,
you're not holding me. If you only knew the you in my head,
every night--tearing with these heavenly fingers
at the cracks in my sanity- you would allow me this!
Her tongue tastes my tears; nails clawing, clawing, clawing-
she takes away my pain,
but she doesn't belong to me either.
"We are but wolves.
Tell me, what does my blood taste like?"
'X' Marks The SpotI am a pirate,'X' Marks The Spot3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a ghost among the sunken ship
of your treasure trove heart.
Like the last bit of rum in the jug,
I enjoy the way 'fuck' rolls off your tongue,
as if you invented its meaning.
I try to articulate that one syllable,
match your way of speech-
You've never needed to dress your words-
dip them in ink or paint them in poetry
upon the exotic map of my sun-kissed curves.
I have drowned so many times
in the green sea of your eyes
that I am coughing up seaweed
& weak bones.
You tell me not to speak-
that such words sound dirty on my tongue
that my spine is made for beauty
and not for a bounty.
But you, you are a plague
light-years at sea
and I am finding the ocean
& salty siren lips.