friendlyneighbourhoodwordsmith

Summer heat slicks our skin like gasoline, She leans close, breath tinged with homemade wine. Satin words slip from a cherry-stained mouth, Secrets curling like smoke between our eyes. Sunset drips down her collarbone in gold, Sin never looked so soft, so full of grace, Shut doors, wax melts, the scent of something burned Sulfur, maybe, or the want we define. She laughs, low, like a flame catching a wick, Shadow-drenched, lips poised just before they bite. She is the spark, the match, the heat, the smoke, Somewhere between danger and sheer delight. Sweet on her breath: the last of the wine, Smuggled in mason jars, **** and red. She, all soft flannel and bitten lip Sits close enough that the air turns musk. She doesn’t speak, but the silence leans, Spills down my spine like the first slow sip. still as a crescent pinned to the wood. Saffron smoke rising from cedar and fire. She touches my wrist like ablution slow and sure, in ritual desire.

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May 9, 2025

May 9, 2025 at 9:34 AM UTC

friendlyneighbourhoodwordsmith

desire

Summer heat slicks our skin like gasoline, She leans close, breath tinged with homemade wine. Satin words slip from a cherry-stained mouth, Secrets curling like smoke between our eyes. Sunset drips down her collarbone in gold, Sin never looked so soft, so full of grace, Shut doors, wax melts, the scent of something burned Sulfur, maybe, or the want we define. She laughs, low, like a flame catching a wick, Shadow-drenched, lips poised just before they bite. She is the spark, the match, the heat, the smoke, Somewhere between danger and sheer delight. Sweet on her breath: the last of the wine, Smuggled in mason jars, **** and red. She, all soft flannel and bitten lip Sits close enough that the air turns musk. She doesn’t speak, but the silence leans, Spills down my spine like the first slow sip. still as a crescent pinned to the wood. Saffron smoke rising from cedar and fire. She touches my wrist like ablution slow and sure, in ritual desire.

22

my humour blinds me. it blinds me. it tears me eyes out and scares me it pushes me over and hangs me my brainstem a noose, my eyes, a prize and i will hang there, hot drips down it warms me, it softens the ice it tastes sweet, just like my fathers it looks neat, just like my mother just like her handwriting as she signs the paper as she signs me away just as her grip on my throat just as she suffocates me just as she'll give mouth to mouth, she wants me alive she places her lips on mine and mauls them off perhaps now i'll stay pure, i'll stay hers i would look at the mirror across the hall at me a red lip's for a harlot, she says. she's made mine ruby its neat how deep i'll carve my name on my chest afraid i'll look at the mirror across the hall and not recognize her at all i'll play my nerves to the tune of misery maybe ill glance down the hall and see her smile back maybe i'll hate her, maybe i'l get on all fours and pounce an animalistic rush, a rush nonetheless maybe i'll tear out her eyes, maybe i'll take her soul regardless what i do, i will feel warm its that warmth i crave, the tides shift and the moon breezes the dawn sets and im cold. and i freeze, shards of me snap off i hold them close, i fear i will lose them maybe they should be lost perhaps i should melt them make stained glass of my essence, use it to bind my bedroom window and maybe i should toss them over the edge, the ashes of my youth following suit maybe i should pack them up in twine and parchment maybe i'll hold them in my palm, knuckles white i'll feel them slice through, i'll see crimson paint my nails irregardless i'll feel warm

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Oct 21, 2024

Oct 21, 2024 at 12:22 PM UTC

friendlyneighbourhoodwordsmith

mirror across the hall

my humour blinds me. it blinds me. it tears me eyes out and scares me it pushes me over and hangs me my brainstem a noose, my eyes, a prize and i will hang there, hot drips down it warms me, it softens the ice it tastes sweet, just like my fathers it looks neat, just like my mother just like her handwriting as she signs the paper as she signs me away just as her grip on my throat just as she suffocates me just as she'll give mouth to mouth, she wants me alive she places her lips on mine and mauls them off perhaps now i'll stay pure, i'll stay hers i would look at the mirror across the hall at me a red lip's for a harlot, she says. she's made mine ruby its neat how deep i'll carve my name on my chest afraid i'll look at the mirror across the hall and not recognize her at all i'll play my nerves to the tune of misery maybe ill glance down the hall and see her smile back maybe i'll hate her, maybe i'l get on all fours and pounce an animalistic rush, a rush nonetheless maybe i'll tear out her eyes, maybe i'll take her soul regardless what i do, i will feel warm its that warmth i crave, the tides shift and the moon breezes the dawn sets and im cold. and i freeze, shards of me snap off i hold them close, i fear i will lose them maybe they should be lost perhaps i should melt them make stained glass of my essence, use it to bind my bedroom window and maybe i should toss them over the edge, the ashes of my youth following suit maybe i should pack them up in twine and parchment maybe i'll hold them in my palm, knuckles white i'll feel them slice through, i'll see crimson paint my nails irregardless i'll feel warm

40

i stand buck toothed and frizzy haired i'm in foreign country with foreign faces she's my restute i trace my finger tips rough from the dirt under our **** cherry tree on the photograph of her outline on the bed we share i hear her from the other room she says we arent doing well thats a lie she says she has foreign blood thats a lie she says she loves me my smile cuts through as i grab my own pinky i promise myself i shall never lie if the sky is blue, it's a blue sky if the sun is hot, it's a sunny day i'd never let myself follow her way i stand glowing teeth and raven pig tails i twirl my abaya between my fingers as she asks where i'll head off i couldn't break her heart at the expense of my pleasure i mutter names, hiding out others i sit in the back seat of my drivers car, looking at my reflection in the tinted window i see her outline look back at me in her eyes i lay في عيونها in her arms i sway في قلبها صورتي وفي روحها اسمي مخيوط ما بين خلاياها بابرة دميما انا واياها وجه واحد لماذا لا تراني في المراية؟ وحيدة امي وحيدة قلبها وحيدة وقتها اعطتني نفسها i didnt ask for it i didnt ask to be given a debt of guilt i look at her, i see me i see her buck toothed with frizzy hair did she ever see me in her mother?

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Jan 23, 2024

Jan 23, 2024 at 10:46 AM UTC

friendlyneighbourhoodwordsmith

my mother

i stand buck toothed and frizzy haired i'm in foreign country with foreign faces she's my restute i trace my finger tips rough from the dirt under our **** cherry tree on the photograph of her outline on the bed we share i hear her from the other room she says we arent doing well thats a lie she says she has foreign blood thats a lie she says she loves me my smile cuts through as i grab my own pinky i promise myself i shall never lie if the sky is blue, it's a blue sky if the sun is hot, it's a sunny day i'd never let myself follow her way i stand glowing teeth and raven pig tails i twirl my abaya between my fingers as she asks where i'll head off i couldn't break her heart at the expense of my pleasure i mutter names, hiding out others i sit in the back seat of my drivers car, looking at my reflection in the tinted window i see her outline look back at me in her eyes i lay في عيونها in her arms i sway في قلبها صورتي وفي روحها اسمي مخيوط ما بين خلاياها بابرة دميما انا واياها وجه واحد لماذا لا تراني في المراية؟ وحيدة امي وحيدة قلبها وحيدة وقتها اعطتني نفسها i didnt ask for it i didnt ask to be given a debt of guilt i look at her, i see me i see her buck toothed with frizzy hair did she ever see me in her mother?

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