betwixtthepages - Hobbyist, General Artist

praying mantis, you hold my heart tattered at half-mast, a mantra to the sanctuary the solace your voice once providedI hear it screaming in the chasms of silence left between breath strokes and withered stars-- haikus of misunderstanding, a poetry all its ownthere's a breaking to the madness, a confusion of who I was and who I am; there's a madness to the breathing, a reckless nonchalance tempting the web I've woven around my woundsbandages can't fix this, stitches are bound to rip in the sunrise, and your claws are too clean to be strangling me so quickly so pull me close and tear me openI'll figure out the rest under a different weather...

Heavy Mourning by betwixtthepages, literature

Literature

Heavy Mourning

In the absence of you, my therapist asks how I'm coping. I cop a line about finding healing in art, lie about how honest I am about how much this hurts, tell a tall tale about keeping busy when really, these walls stopped talking the day you died and I stopped finding anything but safety in my sorrow net. Happiness is fleeting-- a dream you appear in, your voice saved in my phone, the last gasp of a scent that takes me, however briefly, home. In the absence of you, silence is heaven and hell-- a friend to embrace, an enemy to defeat, an abyss I can't drown in. My therapist asks how I'm coping and all I can think is how dishones...

Forging Foundations by betwixtthepages, literature

Literature

Forging Foundations

there is part of me that knows these walls in the same ways I know unrequited was the dream I used to tie my strings to, unrequited was the hope I used to fill myself up, unrequited is just a word I used to be friends with because you've crooked your fingers into the hooks of my jeans and you've hooked my heart, dangling, a stranger to safety learning how to let someone lead-- there is a piece of me that fears these feelings like I fear insects that sting, like I fear wildfires that rage, like I fear porcelain dolls with cracked faces and scarred chests because so far in this life, all the beautiful things I've ever held have come to me b...

Flaming Moth by betwixtthepages, literature

Literature

Flaming Moth

My heart is a campfire; we're gathered like fireflies to hear the eulogies of my drywall veins, a silent nod to the flickering hope that stubbornly clings to my breath beats, my eye shine, my razzle and glow dreams. You are quiet in your gasping, a beacon I've set my destination for but can't quite reach out to pull close-- like moon dust or phantom velvet or the softest of night sighs, you slip through even the loosest clenched fists, a will-o-the-wisp with an alluring face and an ever changing façade. In my aching, I crackle and crinkle your name across the typography of my skin, a topographical error in lusting and loving that I can't b...

Pillow Talk by betwixtthepages, literature

Something Worth Hoping For by betwixtthepages, literature

Literature

Something Worth Hoping For

My relationship with you is like a dive, and I don't mean the leaping from tall buildings hoping to sprout wings or spontaneously combust on the way down kind.No.I mean my car got a flat on the side of the road two miles passed and I'm twirling the plastic ring of a one-ply napkin in a corner booth at the back of a just off the beaten track diner because I left my spare in your trunk and I don't know how to handle a jack and there is no cell service here, anyway.I mean the payphone in the vacant lot next door ate ten dollars worth of quarters before connecting me.I mean I finally got a dial tone and then dialed the wrong number; the lady o...

Nesting Doll by betwixtthepages, literature

the things history has taught you by betwixtthepages, literature

Literature

the things history has taught you

hooded heart: history has taught you that men who hide their truths are wolves who stray behind turned backs; that leashes are only effective when they don't hold knives to cut thin ties; that whispered words and heavy gestures mean more in dark corners and you can't keep a wolf from hunting when you're too hopeful to lure a snare and trap them in their place.past hurts dictate present fears-- you are cowed by the teeth memory flashes, weak-tongued and vein-tied in the face of seeding saplings: an erasure of courage more biting than the bruises of phantoms passed.broken spirit, history has taught you that men who hit use words more than fi...

2 3

8 Next