Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Feb 2018 anusha
schuyler
dampened gravel crunches underfoot as i approach the bank.
still, as the ashen valves in my heart, the glassy surface reflects my watery figure.
daringly, unhesitantly, i peer.
what i see would have forced a shaky breath to escape my throat and form a dispairing cloud in the icy air.
but now, what i see does not even allow a flinch.
for the pith of my bones was glowing through my raw skin;

and my eyes, once slate, had turned
an inky obsidian.
anusha Feb 2018
if i could kiss
The broad strokes of light
which dance across
Crescent moons;
cresting
waves,

I pray
Thy pale light
might aflame  
my sorrow’s sight
anusha Feb 2018
Blond umber smears
Tree trunks all around,
Swaddled in damp
Verdant, soaked
With tears
of clouds

The
Path,
Though longer
than a spool
all unstrung
Fungal bouquets adorn
every fall totem
Illicit lifeblood, an inclement heaven
G
  Feb 2018 anusha
Aidan Derocher
triumph shatters through sadness
leaving shards for the rest to be flayed by
few find intimacy and break free
while we are consumed by perpetual envy

i cry to know that i am exempt
left behind in solitude
for who could find solace in me
who is more nuisance than friend

love, lust, and loss
primordial since existence
inexplicably bound
identical

one may believe in relations
another may succumb to lust
yet either way
the ultimatum is loss

so I plea
to all compatriots in this flood
let those fears be washed away
support, love, be loved
as we will eventually drown
anusha Feb 2018
(Am I insane to radiate with emotional dreck so much I can hear the snap of your neck)
I could point
To the captive screams drowned in
***&cokes
Festooned with “passion”
Lived out in empty stairwells
the front seat
hours
inebriated
please
let me leave. even without my year 15.
anusha Feb 2018
of the scarlet sledgehammer
in my chest,
When I lay my head
at the juncture of your
crossed legs

We spin, a thousand
Voices in a choir
Echo between my cochleae

My heart, once jagged scrap
metal trash pick-up,
Wrought iron from the
ember of your
fever
anusha Feb 2018
past few days have made
me think of the loves

I could’ve had,
which felt like sitting in the sun

and dancing to the music
you wouldn’t dance to

even around friends your age.

now my stomach churns
when I think;

Of dancing, and picnics,
and your music.
Next page