little white liestissue paper skin and barbed wire spineslittle white lies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"i haven't been sleeping well."
butterfly wing smiles and porcelain bones
"the medicine will help."
sparrow hearts and rose petal hair
undersea eyes and sailboat stomachs
"these things pass in time."
autopsyher spine was cracked down the middle,autopsy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her skin unraveled at the seams.
bloated lungs and an emaciated heart filled her no longer moving chest.
her eyes were still open
and her hands stretching for the last thing she ever saw,
though she'd never reached it.
no one knew the exact cause of death,
except the shadow of a boy who avoided her funeral
like it was a plague.
like she was the plague.
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.
biopsyput me under, cover my face, stuff my lungs with your chemical lies.biopsy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if they were to take me apart,
slice open my chest,
peel back the skin keeping me whole,
they would find:
a. one heart, slowly ticking.
(they would not find anything,
but they would have to say they did.
after all, girls can't live without a heart.
they forget that i'm not the first:
a score of girls walking even though
they should have faded long ago.)
b. each rib curved so perfectly,
a shield around my lungs.
(a cage, keeping my breath from bursting
out of my skin. know that this is just me,
held together by nature,
unable to lose control of myself.)
c. two sacs of cells, nestled beside each other.
(no first-hand smoke here, no sir.
only second-hand dust, only
things i could not get rid of,
only bits of places i've been,
caught in my body.
postcards of memories i can't see.)
d. a skeleton, still and alive.
(sleeping, with blood cells being produced
in the hollows of my curves.
the rattling of my bones cannot
WinterbleederCurled around alpine legs and caughtWinterbleeder3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
within hollows and inclines of pale skin,
she carries her endless winter always.
It settles upon frosted shoulders and
caps heavy-lidded eyes, clinging close to
the darkness of each snow-flecked breath;
lingering above cracked lips and the
remnants of a long forgotten warmth.
But darling, don't we deserve each other?
(She'd been Spring's child before Winter's whispers.)
The BluesMy darling,The Blues3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ghost your fingers across
those black and white bones;
then tear them out
you won't need them
(There's no need for sheet music here,
when we have your semibreve breaths.)
that piano is as barren as
the one who sits before it,
and doesn't play.
someone's octobermaybe tomorrowsomeone's october4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i will lace my fingers through
my ribcage, or
lay pennies in the hollow of
my throat, just between
(i carved my skeleton
with my bare hands, so
leave a wishbone at my feet
& let it break)
maybe tomorrow i will
on the sidewalk, all skinned knees and
scraped palms, and become
someone else entirely:
i will unfold my eyes
and linger behind them,
warm as winter
the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.the clockwork liar3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.
ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?
iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.
one human, two human
TigressShe is the kind of girl who smothers herself in astronomy,Tigress3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
New Age philosophies and coffee shop poetry.
All fire and dragon scaled-
She hides her tiger stripes behind bruises and ink stains,
living her life by way of verse-
throwing Hemingway around like insults.
Writing her letters to the moon,
she hides her heart underneath her own floorboards,
folding blank paper birds just to set them free at 3AM.
But, it's the lipstick stained collars,
the rose thorned fingers,
and the dead stars in her chest cavity
that tell her- even a tigress can bleed.
helium balloon lungsi. You write me notes scribbled on sandpaperhelium balloon lungs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I run them across my face,
scraping away layers of saccharine skin,
ii. Your eyes, made of cookie crumbs,
I'd like to dip them in milk
and watch them melt,
smoking like dry ice,
iii. You churn my childish heart
in circles and in circles
till I slip into cardiac arrest,
iv. I just remembered that time you
wrapped your arms around me like vines
and held me until you couldn't,
v. Oh what I'd give for a pair of
fortune cookie lungs,
exhaling self-fulfilling prophecy,
vi. I've been fishing for horoscopes,
pasting them onto my bedroom walls
and on the backside of my skin,
hoping that they tell me that
today is the day you will be mine,
vii. But your soul is made up of sins
and I do believe in forgiveness,
but forgive me, for I cannot forget.
TroyYou have too much time on your hands, Love,Troy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
folding paper cranes with broken fingers,
wishing to see northern lights in the eyes of strangers.
There are no lions between your bed sheets
who understand your hunger better than I-
You are licking my wounds; one with the wild.
I swear it's you behind these eyelids- untamed
and desired by this lonely poetic canvas
stained with blood, ink, and words I can't fucking say.
You look like a Goddess standing there reading my skin
quiet and shameless, proud of the gaping hole in my chest.
I know it then, like I know my own counterclockwise heart;
I should never trust my own kind.
"I'll build you up, my Troy, just to tear you down again."
And I whispered please, please, please...
MelpomeneHear her sing of sun-kissed,Melpomene3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
heavy-lidded tragedies that roll
off her tongue as sweetly as
sugared violets and as naturally
as nightfall; but bruise the lungs
of those who breathe them in.
She is no poet's muse, but
these summer-drunk revellers
will never know better.
either wayshe dances like a raindrop,either way3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
collapses on the ground,
and all of her bones shatter,
made from thin, liquid glass,
her voice ripples on the surface
and it screams
the soft syllables pirouetting on your eardrums
her fingertips tapping
can you hear them?
they are cotton balls
being dropped on the asphalt
can you hear them?
(it's the wind carrying her feet across the air)
and she dances like a raindrop.
you can catch her
and she can shatter in your palms.
how to pay the plumberthe sun is born of ink that leaks from dog-eared galaxieshow to pay the plumber3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the night is made of copper eyes that pipe the constellations
but we are too polite to stare.
any hand that may brush my back must bleed the alphabet
from wearied fingertips, and this is why:
happiness is ice and crinkled bones all wrapped up warm in the
childless rings of saturn
and your smiling face-of-a-cliff that scorches pretty spring skin dry.
we will never say we will never love so
i will die beside,
you die below.
toyboxwe were as broken as they come,toybox2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a ball-joint doll with no joints and a sailboat without any sails.
you had places to be and worlds to see.
all i wanted was to sit on your deck
and have a single place to rest
while the world changed around me.
but the winds came
and i was thrown to the arsenic waves.
you said you never stopped searching,
but you never sent out the lifeboats either.
.i have learnt enough about gravity.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to know that he can do what i can't, myself
snap my bones like twigs
he says that beautiful things are
the easiest to break
her god reeks of whiskey and stale tobaccoshe speaks in monochromeher god reeks of whiskey and stale tobacco2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stringing together words in every shade of blue
she choked on the sea.
syllables crashed against her teeth
wearing away the enamel
and carving out monuments in honor of all the things
she never meant to say.
tiny birds with oil-slick wings
and salt-stripped throats drowned in her esophagus.
she prays to a god that reeks of whiskey
and stale tobacco;
his eyes are as barren as an arctic tundra
but he loves her
like he loves the lichens growing on his spinal cord.
compared to the vastness of his embrace
her pollution is nothing more
than a prism of color after the rain.
her veins took root when she was still in her mother's womb;
the vague tree branches under her skin remind her of home.
she speaks in monochrome
but the black and blue shades never seem
quite as pretty as when the sirens begin to whisper
the toxic spill leaving her susceptible.
and her tiny birds and tree-branch veins
and monuments and lichen-covered gods
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.
a siren's song.her ribcage burst into flowersa siren's song.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as her lungs swam to sea
and the world was silent
-like a film set on mute-
as it watched her dance
into her coral grave.
she grinned and laughed
and all you could hear
was the metallic scraping
of her tongue on her teeth
as her coppery laugh
fell into the ocean-
like a penny onto concrete.
her hair was a tangle of seaweed
drenched in brine
and adorned with salt flecks
that caught the sun in waves
crashing along the shoreline
in the treble notes of symphonies.
ensnared in wanderlust,
she ran towards the current
in hopes of finding herself
among the lost.
she wore fish-scales
on her clavicle
and sung her way down
to the bottom of atlantis.
the ships out at bay that day
only remember one thing:
she sunk like the titanic,
her bones tearing at the seams
and all that remained of her
were two hands
(whose knuckles were mountains
and skin was land)
receding into the curls
as the earth drowned into the sea.
and there was nothing left on the horizon
you could read to me foreveryour vocal cords collapsed withyou could read to me forever2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
the heaviness of your words,
repeating the same exorcised
truth that you caught over the
phone when you moaned to me.
it took a thousand splendid suns
for us to see eye to eye, for you
to know why I weep over book
pages and not people and why
i keep some stories tucked between
my alcoholism and faltering acid
trips. your voice and mine have
the same cadence and we're caught
in the ceasefire between our cords.
i've always been too exhausted, out
of my mind to tell that each
oscillation we've let our voices
take has been plucked better
than a million dancing beams.
up into my throatdo not blame me when I cry as you chase other tails thanup into my throat3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mine and please stop talking as if nothing's wrong because
everything is as long as there is space between our mouths.
I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I might just miss your
dirty looks more then I miss our entangled fingers or late-night
cuddle sessions, but I find myself quivering in bed with your
memory on my fingertips and my fingers in between my thighs.
we're made out of sound. built up from wanton moans and
slippery words and twisted whispers and desperate coughs and
surprised gasps and suppressed sobs and the sloppy smacks of
colliding lips and a terrible, terrible silence that knots
my veins and floods my mouth like vomit.
I would spit you out if I could. I would thrash my fingers into my
throat and then pick the bits of you from between my teeth. but
you have spread through my veins like a poison, you are tangled
all around my bones and knotted into my larynx. I couldn't get
you out even if I tore apart my skin