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SalmoWrites
Poems2
Words165
(π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘ π‘Žπ‘¦ 𝑖𝑑 π‘‘π‘Žπ‘˜π‘’π‘  π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘ 29 π‘¦π‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘  π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘†π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘ π‘Žπ‘šπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘ π‘–π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘› 𝑖𝑑 π‘€π‘Žπ‘  π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘›) now that you've journeyed back to genesis will you please bring back all the things you've lost along the way? or will you tell me that the asteroids have taken too much β€”the damage is irreversible? that your return only offers a view ahead, and the trail you left behind is to be forgotten? tell me about your journey, saturn. tell me how even with all the moons with you, you still felt the weight of solitude. did titan's toxic atmosphere grow unbearable? or was he too cold? could rhea not keep your feet on the ground? did she let you jettison through the empty void. was iapetus' two faces too much to face? with one side pulling you in, the other pushing you away? did enceladus lay bare too many danger, being with him became a gamble? was phoebe aloof the entire time, always keeping her distance? or did the universe just become too dark to see that they were with you all along? you see, saturn, you were never alone. but why, even when the sun tried its best to illuminate your path, did you still fear the black hole lurking at the curve? my dear saturn, now that you've come back, help me find the one who’d put a ring around my fingers just like yours the one who'd navigate through the chaos of my cosmos, the one who'd teach me to wield gravity to stop me from falling off the edge. the one who'd help me understand how to love my scars, the asteroid men, the death debrisβ€” have left behind. saturn, please, don't make another orbit and return once more only to tell me that in the cold expanse of space, i'm destined to chart it alone.
0
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 7:16 AM UTC
saturn returns
(π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘ π‘Žπ‘¦ 𝑖𝑑 π‘‘π‘Žπ‘˜π‘’π‘  π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘ 29 π‘¦π‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘  π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘†π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘ π‘Žπ‘šπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘ π‘–π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘› 𝑖𝑑 π‘€π‘Žπ‘  π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘›) now that you've journeyed back to genesis will you please bring back all the things you've lost along the way? or will you tell me that the asteroids have taken too much β€”the damage is irreversible? that your return only offers a view ahead, and the trail you left behind is to be forgotten? tell me about your journey, saturn. tell me how even with all the moons with you, you still felt the weight of solitude. did titan's toxic atmosphere grow unbearable? or was he too cold? could rhea not keep your feet on the ground? did she let you jettison through the empty void. was iapetus' two faces too much to face? with one side pulling you in, the other pushing you away? did enceladus lay bare too many danger, being with him became a gamble? was phoebe aloof the entire time, always keeping her distance? or did the universe just become too dark to see that they were with you all along? you see, saturn, you were never alone. but why, even when the sun tried its best to illuminate your path, did you still fear the black hole lurking at the curve? my dear saturn, now that you've come back, help me find the one who’d put a ring around my fingers just like yours the one who'd navigate through the chaos of my cosmos, the one who'd teach me to wield gravity to stop me from falling off the edge. the one who'd help me understand how to love my scars, the asteroid men, the death debrisβ€” have left behind. saturn, please, don't make another orbit and return once more only to tell me that in the cold expanse of space, i'm destined to chart it alone.
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(For Anna, 12 years gone) When I think of you, I think of the composition notebooks you collected over the years. I didn’t know how much of you would live on in the small things I carry now. Now I hoard them too. I love how our handwriting curls in the same rounded way, how you filled your notebooks with names of celebrities, and now I write about you in mine, like you’re some A-list actor who was gone too soon. Because in my poetry, you are the lead. When I think of you, I think of how you used to say my nameβ€” a whisper shaped by effort, with very little sound. You were mute. And I didn’t get it the gravity of it then, how much love it took to force out those syllables with a voice that barely worked. But thinking about it now, it was like music, a one-note lullaby I’d pay anything to hear again. When I think of you, I think of red lipsticks, how you were obsessed with them, how you had to pay in installments to that one Avon lady in our neighborhood. Your love for makeup has become a part of me now. You really did a number on me when you left. If you were still here, I’d buy you every perfect red ever made. I just know how you'd clutch those lipsticks to keep them away from everyone, just like Dorothy and her ruby slippers. Now tell me, if I wear the rubiest of lipsticks, click my lips together three times, will you come back home?
0
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 7:16 AM UTC
When I Think of You
(For Anna, 12 years gone) When I think of you, I think of the composition notebooks you collected over the years. I didn’t know how much of you would live on in the small things I carry now. Now I hoard them too. I love how our handwriting curls in the same rounded way, how you filled your notebooks with names of celebrities, and now I write about you in mine, like you’re some A-list actor who was gone too soon. Because in my poetry, you are the lead. When I think of you, I think of how you used to say my nameβ€” a whisper shaped by effort, with very little sound. You were mute. And I didn’t get it the gravity of it then, how much love it took to force out those syllables with a voice that barely worked. But thinking about it now, it was like music, a one-note lullaby I’d pay anything to hear again. When I think of you, I think of red lipsticks, how you were obsessed with them, how you had to pay in installments to that one Avon lady in our neighborhood. Your love for makeup has become a part of me now. You really did a number on me when you left. If you were still here, I’d buy you every perfect red ever made. I just know how you'd clutch those lipsticks to keep them away from everyone, just like Dorothy and her ruby slippers. Now tell me, if I wear the rubiest of lipsticks, click my lips together three times, will you come back home?
Continue reading...
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