i stand as close as humanly possible
to the fire for my a c h i n g b o n e s
they weep
but no one will be warm enough
not for the lava you made creep down
my cheeks and they
course through my body like wildfire
and i, a decaying forest.
i try my best to be as useful to the soil as physically possible for dead matter.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
i need someone who will love me all the time.
not just when they're lonely & bored,
& running out of things fragile enough for them to
take over & call 'mine'.
i need someone who will love me when i'm
sickly sweet cherry cordial, and not just when i'm
drowsy red wine.
not just when i'm their cup of tea that they leave unfinished in the sink because they've stopped to cry.
i need someone who'll love me even when i am a ****
when i am a wildflower.
not just when i'm the blooming roses, wilting from the time they accidentally knocked the watering can over.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 3:45 AM UTC
the sky sometimes sets fire to the wind and though
the flames spell out a plea,
the sky's hands remain hidden deep in his seat.
the sky watches the writhing and he swallows the lump in his throat.
they're just twirling, he hopes.
yellow stands for joy!
that's what the roses told him when they pricked him with their thorns.
when he oozed yellow paint from his fingertips, they told him it was joy.
and the red, it stood for love.
the minefield left behind when the skin was singed from his throat. it was red,
and they told him he would cope.
the orange could stand for no other than the sun - when his pupils cracked from dilating too hard, because her light blinded him. and it could never be undone.
the wind is charred now, and slithers on the ground. i hope it finds solace in being found.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
there is a fairy tale in which
a mighty princess cowers, under
the vines that
wrap around her fingers.
sweet honeysuckle, they whisper brave nothings. they snake up her legs & cling onto her skin.
she needs, she knows.
she wants to rip her veins apart
with rose thorns as her heart grows.
she dances with the petals and mixes them with her hair, raining ashes into the air.
the uncanny ability to make a king's crown slide. she melts his armour & makes a gold plate, for he would never know cyanide-ridden nettles was what he ate.
poison ivy, the colour of her eyes and her envy. she throws out her silk ties and hexes the maidens next door, she sinks into her demons and lays to rot on the floor.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
i held his hand as we sank into the shore.
glass shards, ripping
& stinging our feet. but
i could not ask for more.
i could not ask at all.
the ocean loomed - a heavy shadow,
too dark to be blue. it lapped at our
wounds, like a hungry tomb and
the wind was begging
for me to fall.
quicksand, almost. we were knee deep
into the wrecked atlantis of the creatures
who used to live on the beach.
they once held hands too.
they once had someone to call.
the biggest of waves it was his home it was his place i could not save him from grace it
swallowed him whole.
and i, a carcass along the shore.
i began to understand why hermit *****
said goodbye to their shells with a drawl.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
tosses around her words so she can watch them fall and make a dent in the earth, a dearth. she fills it up with water and prayers but she can never harvest anything except for love. that's where her body comes from - someone else's curves, brimming to the top & exploding with doves.
if there was ever a volcano that erupted just to shower everyone with petals and pearls, it would be her. a curse she holds to be so tender.
but god, i wish i was her.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
i stand here with a hole in my chest. someone unearthed the key and dug up all the rest, their grimy hands
scratching and scraping into the dark. Unsure of what they'll find, but they wouldn't mind
leaving the tomb with a few
antiques,
maybe one or two.
i wish they bagged my soul with them.
it's rusting itself blue.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
even when i am winged
i am benign,
i am beginning.
walking with my feet tied
so loosely to the concrete
by puppet strings;
made of words & cream
& other fragile things not
to be touched,
only to dream.
a marionette trembling
with grabby fingers pulling & drooling
oil onto my chest -
heavy, but it will leave me
slick not sticky,
ready for the finale.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
a vine suffocates a tree
wrapped around it screaming
PLEASE!
don't leave me
*dear god, please don't leave me*
the tree goes limp
and its bark starts to crack
as the vine tightens her grip
till her veins turn black
why won't you stay? why are you leaving me?
the vine must not falter
for if she does
the tree will grow strong and
leave her in the dust
don't go don't leave me please don't leave me
but as the tree chokes,
it thrashes her off
and down will come baby,
cradle and all.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
lady loveless heard her name being yelled
from the bottomless pit of an abandoned well
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC