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Patupoetry_
Patupoetry_
22/Genderqueer/ph. I love overcast afternoons and staring into space.
Unravel me. Plunge your fingers into the depths of my anatomy- wade into my rufescent flesh, strum my fibers, find me in the fissures of my ivory bones--- then come back to the surface, cling to the brims of my clavicles, and tell me how beautiful I am.
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Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 8:40 AM UTC
Fissures and Clavicles
I spent all those years painting achromatic smiles on my sad muses.
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Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 8:06 AM UTC
Painter's Haiku
There’s always a line between things that defines one apart from the other. I believe it also applies between you and I, between mother and son, between earth and sky which is called horizon, or that long line between what is and what is not. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling us, “This is where you’re supposed to be and this is where I’m supposed to be.” And those lines also have lines in between and in between and in between. Bridges, arms, fingers. They all begin on one point and end on another. Two small points that somehow stretch the distance and split one apart. That is why, when we are holding hands we tend to look at the sky, down the river, or at invisible horizons— never to meet the dots of each other’s eyes.
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Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC
Lines
There is something about him that I couldn’t take in like the water swirling half-empty in a wineglass, my hold shaking as I made my way to the dusty jaws of our old paradise. Love. I close my eyes and remember the moment I felt his cold fingers slowly slipping away— the wineglass shatters in the grass. The water comes for the prettier flowers.
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Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 5:39 AM UTC
Like Water
I wish I could fit myself inside a bottle, that travels across oceans sailing off with the message, earth is not home anymore and that I'm better off, living in this beautiful irony of getting by with the swelling, and the panics and the wild spasms of the waters— the only place where I could never drown.
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Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 5:21 AM UTC
Corked
Like the waves, you pulled away before I could bend down to touch you. But many times, you crashed against my limbs while my heart was in the sky.
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Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 5:12 AM UTC
Alon