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chestene_ysadel_4444
Poems2
Words297
clumsy hands accompany honeyed words upon knowing my existence, he fumbles for my silhouette a blind man seeking to carve my essence into marble. the darkness gives no grace nor mercy, so i do- guiding fingertips to draw patterns on my skin, to sketch an outline of my demise. pieces fly, chinks and chips embed themselves line the grooves of his fingers, gather underneath curved nails fit into the indents of his mind, as he leaves each indelible mark i am jagged rock lying in patience for unskilled hands who seek to polish and destroy still, he sinks onto the process like weathering rocks. growing arrogance with borrowed sight blooms like poison blooms forth veins in my body with each misdirection of his chisel yet most crevices remain unrefined and out of reach as is my essence, locked away within my ribcage pedestaled above the self-proclaimed sculptor. i remain resigned as i am sanded and smoothed the chamber echoes with resolute thoughts a masterpiece, he remarks with a finality to misshapen ears. he moves like he is close to the sky and i am his wings securing flight yet i have no heart and no soul to tell he falls short of the sun
0
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 1:27 AM UTC
chestene_ysadel_4444
Impression
clumsy hands accompany honeyed words upon knowing my existence, he fumbles for my silhouette a blind man seeking to carve my essence into marble. the darkness gives no grace nor mercy, so i do- guiding fingertips to draw patterns on my skin, to sketch an outline of my demise. pieces fly, chinks and chips embed themselves line the grooves of his fingers, gather underneath curved nails fit into the indents of his mind, as he leaves each indelible mark i am jagged rock lying in patience for unskilled hands who seek to polish and destroy still, he sinks onto the process like weathering rocks. growing arrogance with borrowed sight blooms like poison blooms forth veins in my body with each misdirection of his chisel yet most crevices remain unrefined and out of reach as is my essence, locked away within my ribcage pedestaled above the self-proclaimed sculptor. i remain resigned as i am sanded and smoothed the chamber echoes with resolute thoughts a masterpiece, he remarks with a finality to misshapen ears. he moves like he is close to the sky and i am his wings securing flight yet i have no heart and no soul to tell he falls short of the sun
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21
Emerged from oblivion bathed in crimson Cheeks tinged with ripe peach freshness and youthful wonder Gift, treasure, priceless blessing! Fearless, feisty, audacious girl. Everybody loved you, everybody hated you, a force of nature Not borne of another man’s rib or another man’s ire But of a woman’s gentle caress and tenderness Mystic creation glistening through your veins, enveloping your being, You walked over the valley of shadow and death and gave life Silverdust, pixie dust, love and lust, You were the dream, and still are. You yearned to be untouchable, So why do they tell you to give in? You staked a claim on the world, So why do they tell you to yield? You once thought the blood-and-flesh men were wise and invincible With their battered chests and salt-licked wounds and spoils of war Gifted you an old box, with weary-wrought hands It’s covered in roses, blood, and rawness; it is too much, they are too much- It says to be spilt over the sink like stale coffee mornings To grace ears with freshly-fallen golden harps And it spits acid at flowers who aren’t like boughs that weaken or snap. Candlelight in the ink-painted caves is tempting to ***** out; Endless darkness is all it has known. But like our mothers and grandmothers and the ones before them, They burned the box spilling bittersweet ivy death and call it a curse Shielded you with clouds and titanium thread meant for fleece-skinned, champagne-blooded girls And crowned you in silk-woven resolve, with a silent but powerful promise To the bridges they burn, we mend in solidarity. We avenge our ruination, through compassion and peace! You yearned to be untouchable, So why do they tell you to give in? You staked a claim on the world, So why do they tell you to yield? Alas, this is merely the beginning Perpetual asphalt plains greet your first steps and your last And you work an 8-to-5 that nobody pays you for The game of mirrors that determines one’s worth, costs a soul Still you try, until you crack. You wished to be one of the candlewick people Deity-like beings who ruled the stars and the streets, But names and lives taint the confidence of solitude you once held. You find your limbs tangled beneath the street lights and think, there is still the ‘morrow. The weekend drips down the windowpane in icy mint, Homegrown tales blooming from grapevines is everyone’s fruit of choice, Especially in luminous amber-silk moons You consume it all the same, until Sobriety went and took over. SHE said: Why fear the flavor of blood and the silk quicksand on your floor? You live to bleed galaxies and dark matter, Not to remain in the trench of soft-shelled egos. Polished prisms hide futilely in silt, So don’t fear the vat of putrid green that aches to melt down God-carved gold (Unfair, unfair, unfair! Scale-tippers must pay.) It was bound to happen, because you dared to overcome yourself. Your time is not meant for lukewarm days and fair-weathered fellows That give memories barely the breadth of a centimeter; Your soul is not meant to be branded by tongues molded in the bittersweet rust of Time, and half-eaten cores pulsing in resigned acceptance Your ego is not made for copper consolation and raw resolve In the pursuit of unadulterated purpose Your steps aren’t shaped in stationary anchors Because the moment you grasped silver in coal was the time the bleak unknown was yours. Take the wheel, as its rightful Creator! You are untouchable, Why should you give in? You own the world, Why should you yield? You ARE the unattainable dream and glory, Why should you surrender? Gift, treasure, priceless blessing Fearless, feisty, audacious girl Heaven on earth, chaos in its making Blood, life, twilight, star bright, such is the essence seraphim are made of Your existence ruptures the atmosphere and makes shadows tremble beneath your feet The sight you see is your birthright With a blade forged in determination, wary steel graces the bare ground, (As wrought and weary as the men through many a sober twilight) As you engrave the path yourself.
0
Jun 23, 2024
Jun 23, 2024 at 8:11 AM UTC
chestene_ysadel_4444
Lucid
Emerged from oblivion bathed in crimson Cheeks tinged with ripe peach freshness and youthful wonder Gift, treasure, priceless blessing! Fearless, feisty, audacious girl. Everybody loved you, everybody hated you, a force of nature Not borne of another man’s rib or another man’s ire But of a woman’s gentle caress and tenderness Mystic creation glistening through your veins, enveloping your being, You walked over the valley of shadow and death and gave life Silverdust, pixie dust, love and lust, You were the dream, and still are. You yearned to be untouchable, So why do they tell you to give in? You staked a claim on the world, So why do they tell you to yield? You once thought the blood-and-flesh men were wise and invincible With their battered chests and salt-licked wounds and spoils of war Gifted you an old box, with weary-wrought hands It’s covered in roses, blood, and rawness; it is too much, they are too much- It says to be spilt over the sink like stale coffee mornings To grace ears with freshly-fallen golden harps And it spits acid at flowers who aren’t like boughs that weaken or snap. Candlelight in the ink-painted caves is tempting to ***** out; Endless darkness is all it has known. But like our mothers and grandmothers and the ones before them, They burned the box spilling bittersweet ivy death and call it a curse Shielded you with clouds and titanium thread meant for fleece-skinned, champagne-blooded girls And crowned you in silk-woven resolve, with a silent but powerful promise To the bridges they burn, we mend in solidarity. We avenge our ruination, through compassion and peace! You yearned to be untouchable, So why do they tell you to give in? You staked a claim on the world, So why do they tell you to yield? Alas, this is merely the beginning Perpetual asphalt plains greet your first steps and your last And you work an 8-to-5 that nobody pays you for The game of mirrors that determines one’s worth, costs a soul Still you try, until you crack. You wished to be one of the candlewick people Deity-like beings who ruled the stars and the streets, But names and lives taint the confidence of solitude you once held. You find your limbs tangled beneath the street lights and think, there is still the ‘morrow. The weekend drips down the windowpane in icy mint, Homegrown tales blooming from grapevines is everyone’s fruit of choice, Especially in luminous amber-silk moons You consume it all the same, until Sobriety went and took over. SHE said: Why fear the flavor of blood and the silk quicksand on your floor? You live to bleed galaxies and dark matter, Not to remain in the trench of soft-shelled egos. Polished prisms hide futilely in silt, So don’t fear the vat of putrid green that aches to melt down God-carved gold (Unfair, unfair, unfair! Scale-tippers must pay.) It was bound to happen, because you dared to overcome yourself. Your time is not meant for lukewarm days and fair-weathered fellows That give memories barely the breadth of a centimeter; Your soul is not meant to be branded by tongues molded in the bittersweet rust of Time, and half-eaten cores pulsing in resigned acceptance Your ego is not made for copper consolation and raw resolve In the pursuit of unadulterated purpose Your steps aren’t shaped in stationary anchors Because the moment you grasped silver in coal was the time the bleak unknown was yours. Take the wheel, as its rightful Creator! You are untouchable, Why should you give in? You own the world, Why should you yield? You ARE the unattainable dream and glory, Why should you surrender? Gift, treasure, priceless blessing Fearless, feisty, audacious girl Heaven on earth, chaos in its making Blood, life, twilight, star bright, such is the essence seraphim are made of Your existence ruptures the atmosphere and makes shadows tremble beneath your feet The sight you see is your birthright With a blade forged in determination, wary steel graces the bare ground, (As wrought and weary as the men through many a sober twilight) As you engrave the path yourself.
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