rencoco - Hello Poetry

brittle beneath the confliction of a soft and strong structure perfectly still but ashen enough to drift in the wind drops of salt that flow like morsels to taste past lips folded in half once every several days to shed vermillion and renew silent with the thud of a bass drum tuned to an individual eternity insignificant to a dying star burning light years away and a hungry giant within a single chaotic orbit

0

Oct 7, 2016

Oct 7, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC

rencoco

I Am Alive

brittle beneath the confliction of a soft and strong structure perfectly still but ashen enough to drift in the wind drops of salt that flow like morsels to taste past lips folded in half once every several days to shed vermillion and renew silent with the thud of a bass drum tuned to an individual eternity insignificant to a dying star burning light years away and a hungry giant within a single chaotic orbit

7

The worst days are the stillest. The quietest. The loneliest. The days you fill each speck of time to move it along. The days where midnight is not a relief and 3AM, you hope, is bedtime. Days it cracks it's locks and grows in you, blooming ugly into lungs so you are reminded with each inhale. Days you shut your eyes and count like shouting back at yourself. Days where you're not even sure what day it is.

0

Sep 1, 2016

Sep 1, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC

rencoco

untitled

The worst days are the stillest. The quietest. The loneliest. The days you fill each speck of time to move it along. The days where midnight is not a relief and 3AM, you hope, is bedtime. Days it cracks it's locks and grows in you, blooming ugly into lungs so you are reminded with each inhale. Days you shut your eyes and count like shouting back at yourself. Days where you're not even sure what day it is.

7

Did they feel the war coming? Taste it like metal on their tongues? Even if the paths were unclear, were the seams and cracks where nations began to crumble detected? Did they feel the war coming? Like a bad dream that kept getting worse? Even if the voices shushed them, did they know it was upon them did they feel like this too?

0

Jul 15, 2016

Jul 15, 2016 at 8:45 PM UTC

rencoco

History is Tomorrow

Did they feel the war coming? Taste it like metal on their tongues? Even if the paths were unclear, were the seams and cracks where nations began to crumble detected? Did they feel the war coming? Like a bad dream that kept getting worse? Even if the voices shushed them, did they know it was upon them did they feel like this too?

10

if my chest were a juicebox i could stick a straw through the filmy layer between my ribs wrap my arms around myself and squeeze and squeeze until every drop of me was drained

0

Jul 11, 2016

Jul 11, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC

rencoco

Juicebox

if my chest were a juicebox i could stick a straw through the filmy layer between my ribs wrap my arms around myself and squeeze and squeeze until every drop of me was drained

7

scratch the ink from beneath my skin in the places that you've been twenty years from now i'll say i'm burning and churning and churning an absence of yearning the taste between my tongue and cheek gritty regret extracting bitter from sweet forget me please like i've done you if only if only that were true

0

Jun 30, 2016

Jun 30, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC

rencoco

some days

scratch the ink from beneath my skin in the places that you've been twenty years from now i'll say i'm burning and churning and churning an absence of yearning the taste between my tongue and cheek gritty regret extracting bitter from sweet forget me please like i've done you if only if only that were true

8

lesbians will want to write about your hands the way they wrap around warm cups of tea and clench and unclench with rage and pride she'll notice the delicate length of your fingers how they feel pressing and bruising into soft flesh the art they make, the stories they create the blood sprouted from knuckles in societal protest their kindness, their firmness, their warmth lesbians memorize every mark and line of them how they never strike her how they settle in her own, how they feel inside her how you use them to clasp your bra and pin up your hair the way you draw them together, how they fold into you when they touch to your lips, when they touch to hers how they pass through her barriers, sneak under shirts wake her from sleep, lull her to rest, appear in her dreams lesbians will take them in her own hold them to her mouth, her breast, her heart wonder what they are doing at any time of the day feature them in fantasies and daydreams claim them as her own, as if they were hers love them when they shake and when they are steady she'll want your hands to be her hands and hers to be yours interchangeable, familiar, worshiped

0

Apr 28, 2016

Apr 28, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC

rencoco

worship

lesbians will want to write about your hands the way they wrap around warm cups of tea and clench and unclench with rage and pride she'll notice the delicate length of your fingers how they feel pressing and bruising into soft flesh the art they make, the stories they create the blood sprouted from knuckles in societal protest their kindness, their firmness, their warmth lesbians memorize every mark and line of them how they never strike her how they settle in her own, how they feel inside her how you use them to clasp your bra and pin up your hair the way you draw them together, how they fold into you when they touch to your lips, when they touch to hers how they pass through her barriers, sneak under shirts wake her from sleep, lull her to rest, appear in her dreams lesbians will take them in her own hold them to her mouth, her breast, her heart wonder what they are doing at any time of the day feature them in fantasies and daydreams claim them as her own, as if they were hers love them when they shake and when they are steady she'll want your hands to be her hands and hers to be yours interchangeable, familiar, worshiped

24

Now words you said feel like a ghost I’ll raise a glass to myself a toast Forgetting how our lips would fit And lustful nights, they don't exist Endearing words sit different here In memories that aren’t so clear How nothing makes me miss the days And all my love goes on and fades

0

Apr 6, 2016

Apr 6, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC

rencoco

Forgetting

Now words you said feel like a ghost I’ll raise a glass to myself a toast Forgetting how our lips would fit And lustful nights, they don't exist Endearing words sit different here In memories that aren’t so clear How nothing makes me miss the days And all my love goes on and fades

8

my body is a ticking clock the thud thud of seconds passed they burn away in my chest and pound against my eardrums a steady race with accomplishment of pride, worth, and meaning crippled under a stern reminder the constant sound of ticking tick tick, thud thud, tick tick, thud thud I only hope the day that comes when I'm met with my demise I will have found myself enough to greet the last and final tick warm with relief and content for now I am afraid of death because the fear of life still fills me

0

Dec 11, 2015

Dec 11, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC

rencoco

Anxiety

my body is a ticking clock the thud thud of seconds passed they burn away in my chest and pound against my eardrums a steady race with accomplishment of pride, worth, and meaning crippled under a stern reminder the constant sound of ticking tick tick, thud thud, tick tick, thud thud I only hope the day that comes when I'm met with my demise I will have found myself enough to greet the last and final tick warm with relief and content for now I am afraid of death because the fear of life still fills me

16

And she said Don't limit me to the sky when all the stars are waiting For me to take my place amongst them

0

Oct 11, 2015

Oct 11, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC

rencoco

The Sky Is The Limit

And she said Don't limit me to the sky when all the stars are waiting For me to take my place amongst them

3

That women there silenced jaw in a glare bold bands of devotion streaked through her hair. Defiant soles to the tops of a stools speaking conviction to deaf eared fools. Your everyday overdue fresh eyed, baby girl, honey sweet, jewel.

0

Oct 6, 2015

Oct 6, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC

rencoco

Greet Your Monarch

That women there silenced jaw in a glare bold bands of devotion streaked through her hair. Defiant soles to the tops of a stools speaking conviction to deaf eared fools. Your everyday overdue fresh eyed, baby girl, honey sweet, jewel.

6