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 Mar 2018 Elizabeth Oyibo
yúyīn
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Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
 Mar 2018 Elizabeth Oyibo
scully
and if we happen to
explode like a star that has
held it's breath for just a bit
too long, an exhale of
the memories we press into each other,
i will acknowledge it as less of a cheap shot to
my stomach and more like a tender tide
between the skin and the bed.
i have come this far on the back of
every single mistake,
i had caved into your mouth the second
it collided against mine and
i have let all of this love leak from the
cracks in my skin.
if our feverish and hungry hands
soften into gentle fingertips and
quiet, distracted touches, i will
lull into the way it still feels like you are
coming home every time. when we
get old and we collapse into the safety
of our own walls after one of the long days that
never end, i will take the silence as less of a bitter
absolution and more like a shift into the refuge of
each evening. i have spent my time
wanting, i have spent my time craving and
devouring all of the you that i could get my hands
on. if we kiss each other until our deprived shoulders
slump into acceptance, i will kiss you again and
we can carry each
other through phases like the moon. if we happen to
love each other so much that we do little else, i will
cherish every second that we spend doing nothing.
The black sun coiled around you by morning,
Gingerly tending your wounded mind
You basked in the tall shadow of two lovers;
Waltzing along the line of indecisive love

Seven has always been your favorite number,
As we embarked to raise the tiger-eyed moon
That desolate soul wrapped in your inked bones
Couldn't silence the riptide that conquered like our kiss.

You were an addiction that took five months to sober,
Feathering every "I love you" with a pitiful look to me
I guess we just headed off to war in different directions
We were spilling blood in agony for each other.

There are regrets surfacing in your heart
I would know,
It's in my palm, right?

"
I am unwelcome and detatched, it seems.*"
--                                                                                   Am I wrong, Lycan?
--
is a ***** liar
  that insists things were
  better than they
  seemed.
--
Why does it still hurt?


© Copywrite Skaidrum

You have never once;
lost the translation of love
in the moon's phases.
Of the haiku series
viii. oaths from my pheonix

© Copywrite Skaidrum
v.

We look back to how
we orchestrated our love
in those polaroids.
Of the haiku series
v. "him"

© Copywrite Skaidrum
iv.

Tell me where to sell
my soul, and I will meet you
there; ode to myself.
Of the haiku series
iv. odes & suicides

© Copywrite Skaidrum
vi.

The first lie that my
mother fed to me still tastes
like expired love.
Of the haiku series
vi. flesh & sacrafices

© Copywrite Skaidrum

My wolf girl was a
lantern among the sea of
ash & the afterlife.
Of the haiku series
vii. to: wolf girl

© Copywrite Skaidrum
 Feb 2018 Elizabeth Oyibo
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
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