Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
When the stars collapsed--


           Chilled, your smile
            w  a  r  m  e d                                       

                   t.--As you loved the word 'super-
                  nova' even if by definition it was
                  the death of something beautiful.
                    We held conversations between
                   grains of sand; s l i p p i n g
                       through my fingers like
                        falling stars in mid-
Title: "With your love, slipped through my hands."
I might revisit this.
It feels off somehow. :/

Written for 'Poetry Scream's Prompt Contest'. ---> [link]

Featured: [link] [link]
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

She rules the heart as certainly as she rules her art,
measuring and proportioning everything
into the image of perfection. Her hands draw
and quarter the contours of any shape
she can touch with her fingers, a talent
men gladly pay to see--at which point
she pins her eyes on their features,
ready to make everything they offer
into another piece for her portfolio.
She infuses plasma into all their veins,
burning them all inside out and setting
their fiery forms into clay casts
to make the metal statues with which
she decks her atelier. I'm telling you this
because it doesn't matter
whether she looks hot or cool; if they're dry
both fire and ice burn.
Dry fire, dry ice.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

She left galaxies on his pillowcase
where she slept the night before
of make up colors,
shimmer, shadow,
smudged and smeared,
blurred by silent tears
- alive...
the stars leaked out with the saline –
along with the residue of dreams
that she never meant to have.

Chips of polish decorate his bed sheets,
rogue satellites
from her chewed and broken nails,
after scratching at the too-low ceiling
and his too-close back
while she slept fitfully,
searching desperately for space.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

she dances like a raindrop,
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.
it's not about anything. i just wrote it and it sucks bootyhole
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

sweeping across the snow
left me a feather
and away he goes

and away he goes
drifting up on the air
but I seem to be stuck here
melting in the cold
cannot rip my eyes from the sky
cannot get my fists to unfold
the words have frozen to our tongues
that's what happens to winter love

so you think this feather is enough to make a wing
so you try to free me from it,
but your claws only sting.
i walk away
come to regret every footfall
but I can't keep you down
because you're up
and I'm frozen to the ground

laying pale in the snow
he can soar no more
you didn't have to do that
have to fall on your own sword
cut your wings apart
to get me back home.
and as I see you freeze
I know now what it is I believe
that someone could give up everything
for love
come down to the winter
from above
do you know the secret, Bird?
learn to live with the cold
though you turn blue
the heart beats hot inside of you

I know it
for the contest from #RomanceforEveryone "winter love" [link]

- for the "blackbird's feather" prompt

-39 lines
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

there is a thick exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my shoulders
till they hang and to my knees until they buckle. and I will sleep for days on end,
and when I wake up I didn't really.

I hate you dear, I hate you so.

because there is so much to do, I could travel to the other side of the country and
paint a portrait of a stranger and I could sit on top of someone's roof and look at the
stars with a boy I don't want to know and I could fall asleep in his bed and listen to
him playing guitar without clothes and he'd take me out for diner and anywhere I'd
want to go and we'd have sex in his car and on the trampoline in my back yard and
we'd eat at my grandparents with Christmas and it would never be enough because
he's everything you weren't.

I think I lost myself, I think I fell out that time you ran away holding onto me and my
skin tore. I looked for her in that empty hole in your chest cavity, but all I found was
lost so long ago, and you wouldn't show me where it went because you didn't know.

and I wasn't ever there.
and you lied the night you left.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Once there was a young girl who believed in three things: breathing, dying, and true love. Three basic things, that shouldn't be too difficult. What she didn't realize was that they are all intertwined. We breathe to escape death, while we also breathe to die. Then true love gives us breath, but true love lost causes us to die even slower and painfully so. No, she did not know it then but she most certainly does now; for she has breathed and loved and died all at once and then altogether. Inhaling only to exhale, breathing only to love, and loving only to die.
a short little piece of prose on a Sunday night, feels just right
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

My love for you is less than three
but more than four or five.
I keep it in a box – it’s free
it’s dead then it’s alive.

My love is vast, my love is slight –
for many and for few.
It’s in the clouds, it sees no light,
it’s old but also new.

It has no cost or strings attached
so buy it with a smile.
Its life’s so long that it’s unmatched,
It only lasts a while.

Because of it I was a saint
and sinned away my wings.
I knelt and begged without complaint,
I feasted among kings.

My love for you is gentle, sound –
It’s dangerous and cruel.
It made a clever man, I found
It also made a fool.

My love will watch you walk away
And never let you go.
It’s since I love you day by day
That my love changes so.
I wrote this entire poem because I thought the first line was mildly amusing. Does that even count as a pun?

Yes, you have permission to say that I am an idiot.

100 themes challenge : II
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

It's been awhile since I've been underwater,
so I drew myself a bath
and let the water rush itself into the tub
like blood to the brain,
as it pooled into the fiberglass basin
I felt the tides start to rise
while the pond I created began to
encase every limb,
my lips brushed against the water
in a liquidated kiss
and my blonde locks melted into the sea
as if my name were Medusa and
my strands of hair were snakes,
but my body dissolved into what it used to be,
I became the water and the water became me.
i took a bath last night for the first time in three years
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

If it were only appropriate to speak
of a single touch, of what it means,
of what it feels.

Our forearms graze and so I hold very still,
I never want to lose a second of
you against me.

My entire being shivers along the
shores of your skin

and all of my nerve endings are electrified
when I imagine our relationship evolving into
lilac limbs, freshly kissed lips, and
lieing next to you on rainforest floors.

We create a completely nuclear reaction,
a mixture of fusion, friction, and fascination.

So believe me when I say, oh boy I love you,
I really do,
yes, I want you so,
so close,
closer than tires upon pavement,

and like a car you turn into me,
and like a car you take me places,

you even take my daydreams to extraordinary realms
where I wake in the midst of the woods,

the air is slick and crisp
and I can feel your muddy, autumn hands
dancing along my flaking, fir tree flesh,
the dirt runs damp between our toes
and we become nothing but creatures of the forest;

living off each other's love,
the warmth of the sun,
and the fresh taste of maple syrup;

sweet and sticky
and never truly lost.
oh dear

side note: i didn't realize how um, sensual? this poem is until I posted it and re-read it
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.