There’s sunlight on your cardigan in the cream afternoon And in your eyes. Sunlight like starlight Like flickering skies. It’s just- there’s something about seeing you- I feel my ribcage in my throat Like a fluttering bird next to you I can’t lose. But with my hands underneath your spine My fingers against your lifeline, your heart tells me You’re not mine.
I wish it a lie
I’ve worn a collar for a while that reads 'yours' When I see you smile and when I tug it burns my skin bright red It turns my blood to space dust So when I look through my vein’s musk There’s remnants of sunlight like starlight Moon white You feel as fingers against the back of mine That don’t fit - or fit just right.
It is a lie.
He has a beard. Does it scratch against your chin? I will have met him and the traces on his back Fingers brushed over his skin Can you feel the pulse under his spine? Well I thought my vessels- your starshine- Your blood mingled- mixed with mine Boiled above him- under his bed. Your bed- I thought you said it was divine But I am faltering even in my mind
I’m the lie.
Good morning. I’ll buy you a cup of tea Don’t you feel- isn’t it- why can’t you see? I’m breaking my fingers So that the sunlight can go back where it belongs So that I don’t- won’t- shouldn’t- Can’t reach out to touch you anymore I don’t want to hear the words mine The cry from your spine I have felt enough for brittle bones
happy valentine's day!! ah I feel like this poem is odd just because I want it to be :) I'm experimenting!!
and I have experienced many feelings lately which, of course, is fantastic poem material.
If I’m nothing but a growing tree. If I drop the kettle When I make a cup of tea. Will you stay with me? I am growing down. I am losing ground How do I learn to just be? Breathing through hours. The air is sour Time ticks away and deflowers The water’s boiled blue I have lost… I have to lose I’m the tree unrooted.
You should smile with your teeth. I’d make you cups of tea half smiling with sleep laugh sweetly when you spoke from fuzzy dreams And measure the dimples in your freckled cheeks When my eyes have betrayed me I try to turn you inside out But I haven’t found my reflection in your bloodstream Though you are running through my veins like hot coffee.
You shouldn’t look at me The buttons on your coat make me jittery and uncomfortable Because I want to pull you by your hair I want to meet your hazed stare and imagine me there Living in the catchlight on the reflection of a hotel window While you take off your clothes behind me So I see your skin in the fogged up glass shudder while your eyes burn into my back and smoke rises from my spine.
You should love him a little more He’s been on the phone since four and I hear his yorkshire accent from before like an axe being jolted into the dip of my chest. Bouqets of roses by your door and I’m the crippling thorns I feel like shaking hands between my knees the blood dripping from my sleeves How cruel I have been Although my heart is by my feet and ill at ease You should smile with your teeth Even if it isn't for me.
hi I'm back!
I found out that the word catchlight has been added to the dictionary and it means the reflection of light in a person's eye - I rly liked it so I thought I'd incorporate it here!
I hope you enjoyed this poem :) the girl I wrote this about will probably (hopefully) never even know how I feel but honestly I don't care anymore. I hope he makes her happy.
it feels good to make a mess of a situation into words. I hope you could see the soft progression here from happy fantasy to painful reality. if my poem makes you feel something then it's a success<3
Wet falls on the striking lines of cobble On the swerving paths of trouble My socks are damp and my feet are cold Light climbs on the dusky evening Sharp as faerie wings Hot like golden spring My eyes are closed and My hands are bound
There are rats at the dip of the grass before The ***** to the water begins Before the moulding wind sings On the spine of a duck’s back There are trees and trees and trees That live in solace without wings That rise with a curved branch Towards the sky
Green air tinged durky damp Leave spots on fading paths Where my scared footsteps leave no visible mark Is there a curse among the leaves? A misgiving in the trees? I open my door to a bumbling kettle Go home breathing empty grey To dream of the lake.
ah there's a lake near my house and it's so magical there I never stop thinking about it! it's not quite as dark as the lake in this poem, but you get the gist.
the title of the poem comes from the origins of the word 'lake' - it could mean 'pit of ****' in Old English, apparently :) dramatic, right? also I made up the word durky which was extremely fun.