Mercury-the-Queen's avatar
Only the moon man knows...
509 Watchers34.5K Page Views333 Deviations
y
you can't buy love with sex and that's okay
maybe once you felt that you belonged, pandora but remember when they split you at the center that hope just keeps their hands holding on a little longer, that every “no” you swallow for his feelings is another man who leaves you reeling, who cracks you open at the chest then turns and blames you for the mess.
13
15
a
3:39 am
i. well here i am willing rest from whispers- never thought i'd sad myself to sleep but this time it's different, this time the bruise is bursting open, the moon just maddening in its might. ii. i could be your pier-legs limbering strong against the waves, holding you fast against the billow and the bays iii. but all those boys with sharkfin tongues mean nothing when i toss my line and tug you right up by the lip
8
18
t
the leaves of my heart can fall away too
i. my chest knocks but no one answers; on lonely nights i write you into poems and you, foggy-eyed and morningmad and silent, look at me like something you could love and walk away. ii. at dawn i’ll hold my heart above the sink like splitting pomegranate, feel your weight inside my lungs as a scream; iii. i tried to pull the dark from your eyes and make a sky of it, breathe you full of love-stars before summer’s end but i saw that lewd hand of autumn grab a fistful of tree and yank the head back, scattering hair. iv. each crunching leaf sends me into shivers- (such a relief for the heart to hear something else breakin
58
80
i
if this all falls to pieces-
driving just knocks the breath from me- highways like country veins; i would love to shrink blood-cell small and just fucking go
15
19
w
worry is just worry until it aches
i. “what if” is where madmen die curled up like cordwood- i curl like the death of a forest, clutching a universe of loose ends in my sweaty fists and night by night i fall into bed just to start tying- a spinster creating stories to make myself ache oh i cut my losses, rock myself to sleep swearing i could love enough for two- for you i'd ease the burden of being mine:don't worry about loving me, alright? just take my heart and come inside. (sleeplessness kicks these eyes black and blue.) ii. i have learned that sadness is unlovable and by extension so am I, this sickly, shaking heart, the brain that reacts and over
21
14
s
side effects include dizziness
they’ve lied to us: happiness can be bought for $14.82 i can get a thirty-day subscription to not wanting to die ii. twenty-two years of sad and i’m just now learning that for some living doesn't ache like regaining feeling from the cold
12
14
p
prurient fingers pinch and poke
oh spring i pity you those philosophers’ fingers, their gaping mouths devouring the honeysuckle sweetness of your dawns- i cry for you, sister-season, for i too have known the prurience of balding philosophers, i too have felt the sweetness pulled from my unconscious,   that hand with dirty knuckles, a bee bouncing from flower to unwilling flower, pinning them against the wind, pressing pollen to their faces spring you are cold in mo(u)rning hot in afternoon spring it’s okay to take a moment to understand that forgiveness won’t come easy, that the stains of love are hard to fade and while your beauty was intoxicating it
19
13
a
a kaleidoscope is just broken glass
i. tonight i’ll pull myself up from the roots and try to untangle the mess of me- the beating, shoestring guts, the weight of a fat heart bursting with the cancer of love ii. i’ve ached to be kaleidoscopic but each time i shatter it’s like carcass smashed through fender, meat heaving from the bone- it’s like the silence after “I love you,” all hitched-breath quiet and then nothing.
11
21
n
no answer still means never
i’ve been up to my knees in river since you left and honestly the cold’s numbed everything- even the stars have winked to hush me though the howls keep tearing through; i wonder how much sadness you can fit into a paper throat before it dissolves. it’s been weeks since i’ve drawn enough breath or reached out to touch a human hand: i think i will rot here sandwiched between grass and sky, the weight of maybe crushing this chest until it bursts.
44
68
c
cities crumble slower than words
i. and you are the jaw-crushing love i always wanted, nights spent grinding teeth against my uncondition; (isn’t love a way of growing, don’t i stretch over countries when i'm with you?) ii. but this is not a love poem. i burden time with heaviness, bending minutes into folds of blankets, tunneling to sleep; i once had energy for flying, arching back against the wind- when i was braver i might leap, arms flashing until my body thumped against the sand. iii. i think i want to open hands into steel, into concrete, in lieu of words i want to sweat-strain against limestone: i have written too much for people who don’t unde
11
16
See all
y
you can't buy love with sex and that's okay
maybe once you felt that you belonged, pandora but remember when they split you at the center that hope just keeps their hands holding on a little longer, that every “no” you swallow for his feelings is another man who leaves you reeling, who cracks you open at the chest then turns and blames you for the mess.
13
15
a
3:39 am
i. well here i am willing rest from whispers- never thought i'd sad myself to sleep but this time it's different, this time the bruise is bursting open, the moon just maddening in its might. ii. i could be your pier-legs limbering strong against the waves, holding you fast against the billow and the bays iii. but all those boys with sharkfin tongues mean nothing when i toss my line and tug you right up by the lip
8
18
t
the leaves of my heart can fall away too
i. my chest knocks but no one answers; on lonely nights i write you into poems and you, foggy-eyed and morningmad and silent, look at me like something you could love and walk away. ii. at dawn i’ll hold my heart above the sink like splitting pomegranate, feel your weight inside my lungs as a scream; iii. i tried to pull the dark from your eyes and make a sky of it, breathe you full of love-stars before summer’s end but i saw that lewd hand of autumn grab a fistful of tree and yank the head back, scattering hair. iv. each crunching leaf sends me into shivers- (such a relief for the heart to hear something else breakin
58
80
i
if this all falls to pieces-
driving just knocks the breath from me- highways like country veins; i would love to shrink blood-cell small and just fucking go
15
19
w
worry is just worry until it aches
i. “what if” is where madmen die curled up like cordwood- i curl like the death of a forest, clutching a universe of loose ends in my sweaty fists and night by night i fall into bed just to start tying- a spinster creating stories to make myself ache oh i cut my losses, rock myself to sleep swearing i could love enough for two- for you i'd ease the burden of being mine:don't worry about loving me, alright? just take my heart and come inside. (sleeplessness kicks these eyes black and blue.) ii. i have learned that sadness is unlovable and by extension so am I, this sickly, shaking heart, the brain that reacts and over
21
14
s
side effects include dizziness
they’ve lied to us: happiness can be bought for $14.82 i can get a thirty-day subscription to not wanting to die ii. twenty-two years of sad and i’m just now learning that for some living doesn't ache like regaining feeling from the cold
12
14
p
prurient fingers pinch and poke
oh spring i pity you those philosophers’ fingers, their gaping mouths devouring the honeysuckle sweetness of your dawns- i cry for you, sister-season, for i too have known the prurience of balding philosophers, i too have felt the sweetness pulled from my unconscious,   that hand with dirty knuckles, a bee bouncing from flower to unwilling flower, pinning them against the wind, pressing pollen to their faces spring you are cold in mo(u)rning hot in afternoon spring it’s okay to take a moment to understand that forgiveness won’t come easy, that the stains of love are hard to fade and while your beauty was intoxicating it
19
13
a
a kaleidoscope is just broken glass
i. tonight i’ll pull myself up from the roots and try to untangle the mess of me- the beating, shoestring guts, the weight of a fat heart bursting with the cancer of love ii. i’ve ached to be kaleidoscopic but each time i shatter it’s like carcass smashed through fender, meat heaving from the bone- it’s like the silence after “I love you,” all hitched-breath quiet and then nothing.
11
21
n
no answer still means never
i’ve been up to my knees in river since you left and honestly the cold’s numbed everything- even the stars have winked to hush me though the howls keep tearing through; i wonder how much sadness you can fit into a paper throat before it dissolves. it’s been weeks since i’ve drawn enough breath or reached out to touch a human hand: i think i will rot here sandwiched between grass and sky, the weight of maybe crushing this chest until it bursts.
44
68
c
cities crumble slower than words
i. and you are the jaw-crushing love i always wanted, nights spent grinding teeth against my uncondition; (isn’t love a way of growing, don’t i stretch over countries when i'm with you?) ii. but this is not a love poem. i burden time with heaviness, bending minutes into folds of blankets, tunneling to sleep; i once had energy for flying, arching back against the wind- when i was braver i might leap, arms flashing until my body thumped against the sand. iii. i think i want to open hands into steel, into concrete, in lieu of words i want to sweat-strain against limestone: i have written too much for people who don’t unde
11
16
p
paradox girl and her war-scarred hands
charlie, my cat does the same thing. with the windowsills. she's my favorite voice in the mornings, when she steals electric blue skies in her gray-green eyes and calls to me: are you awake? are you still lost in a dream? what are you waiting for? (i hear music more clearly in my sleep / but when i try to sing i can hardly speak) what can i tell you about myself, a poet girl and a paradox lover? a pianist who trusts her hands to touch the intangible but not the warm skin of a quiet, offered question; a wandering number-bound soul in the land of two-faced words? at fifteen, i laughed and said: go on. test me. i started to hate paper. i co
3
21
s
solastalgia is a silent nightjar
hold your tongue. there's a storm coming and you're sick of it, but the rain-slick pavement's so beautiful in the light, a red smear paint-stroke shadow with a soul; when the lightning bolt falls you inhale the wreck of sky and stare at the scent of this dirt rich place with its downpour name. tilt your umbrella. breathe. nothing will stay dry. this is not how the world ends. you promise until you believe in the sunrise tomorrow, but no matter how you rush the water rushes faster. the birds flock out and flowers drown so you slow down, look around. hold your breath. you lose the umbrella to the wind. you burn out and forget to swim. som
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42
n
not sleeping, but dreaming (buying a moon)
in the dark my mind slips restless leaves my body finally still assured in sensation composed and at ease with the love that pours out of me . this is my only set of tongue & teeth my shape has been changed by the language we speak and I can not be anything other I am a torrent earnestly exalting I will spill honestly for all to see I am etched in wonder & delight . would you have me be cut from simpler cloth would you have me silence blood & singing bone would you have me?
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75
t
too hot
it's too hot to do anything so we harvest cucumbers, the flowers like burning suns above and below. the wind postpones the scorching until we're home. i spot another one, and another; rough globules of water and seeds lie lazily in the shade of parasols of their own making, as we continue our dragging dialogue about separation, divorce; disappointment, relief. it's your day to speak, and it becomes clearer than ever that you blame the bird for eating, the heart for beating, but i don't blame you and me for building a castle in the sand, too tall to stand.
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32
S
Soft Goodnight
Turn to the window-- lilac fills the sill in your dreaming. Fade quiet toward eventide-- stars will be caught in the velvet as it wanders up from the sea. Breathe in the dusk like a whisper, softly, slow, in twilit tones. You'll find my consciousness tangled in your fingers, keeping me by.
15
32
A
A Lake to Bloom like Tadpoles in June
that was the evening, I walked straight into the ocean, not for want of drowning, I just couldn't have told you where the horizon started or ended, I just couldn't have told you why I stood there searching, not for want of burning, the skyline dripping fire, I just couldn't have told you; you slept straight through the morning, I spilled myself like fire across the ocean, I lost myself and found the beginning of the horizon, ending; that was the morning, I walked straight into the ocean.
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11
U
Untitled
A small bird is perched on an askew trashcan lid, an outpouring of love and use in the alley behind my apartment. I set out food for strays; eye me sideways, I am the bird – I whistle a call, performing, and am startled when you reply, applauding “not cat” or maybe “me too” ...perhaps a pet name... There is an alley you can walk, an ancillary vein flowing through an overgrown tomato garden, ripe vesseled onlookers can toss grenades if they are feeling cheeky. Past the garden is the bike chain, every bike supported by another bike to lock to bike to lock, a support like squat space and purpose like no bike wi
1
6
s
sunlit but shivering
count on me not unlike you count your fingers the spaces between your eyes drawing light like gravity lines on my palm and exit velocity, a silent cry to be held, read like rivulet in wax wings or myths to dispel the notion we are unique and all alone in this Garden of Heathens sunlit and shivering sighs slide sideways, writing monuments in exhaled exhaust exhaustion; a blossom is untimely opening as fingers print passing time, the touch artists' need to create faster than society's capacity to destroy motion lights wash out the stars; hearts free, souls sold separately passive is the feather we are burning together shivering and s
3
13
a
8 a day
my medication doesn't make me dizzy enough I can still wake up I still long for touch (and trust trust) still long for a skin that suits me I keep trying to shake this one off to coax the voice from the jaw to wrap in gossamer text every mood that moves me to define yours truly like stars born in the back of the throat with tangled tongue become their cusp my medication doesn't make me dizzy enough
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81
a
august (and everything after)
all of my best mistakes are well intentioned. when this summer ends I wonder where we'll be. I'm still dreaming of those plans that you once mentioned, I'm still wondering if you ever still dream of me. and I know the human heart has many chambers, more rooms than anyone can hope to fill. still, I'd like the chance to earn a little space there, but only if you'll let me. say you will. (I'll never ask, just wait to hear you say you will.)
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Deviant for 9 years

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YouInventedMe's avatar
YouInventedMeHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the :+fav: on like a cat.
callerofcrows's avatar
callerofcrowsHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the fave!
YouInventedMe's avatar
YouInventedMeHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the stars and the very kind comments. <3
YouInventedMe's avatar
YouInventedMeHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the :+fav: on Barnabus Broot. Good to see you around.
YouInventedMe's avatar
YouInventedMeHobbyist Writer
Thank you for the stars. They mean a lot.