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Yv S Dec 2017
i told her "i miss you,"
and she laughed at me.
i laughed with her, my
throat - a vice.

sore and red and - i taste salt.

i told her "i miss you,"
and she didn't hear me.
so i smiled into noise and
my palms bled.

i don't know how to make this clear.

i told her; nothing.
nothing. white silence and
miles between us.
for nothing?

i got nothing in return.
Yv S Jul 2017
he closes like a -
he closes like a
- wait.
his world closes up like
god - God - took away the oxygen
with one big holy breath.

the choking feeling is
familiar like a
friendly hand in the night
under the covers
reaching for something.

there are no friendly hands here.
no hands at all.
look ma, no hands.

he closes like a
sun swallowed by the horizon,
again and again and again
because it knows how it's done.
(he knows how it's done.)
shut down.
Yv S May 2017
was i not that for you --
the warm shoulder, the cold shoulder,
a hand to hold and grip,
someone to leave behind and walk ahead of --
a set of lips?

if that's what you wanted.
Yv S Mar 2017
i wi-wi-wish i could bear this
a sickening distance and the sickening touch
of you pressed flush against me.
i wi-wi-wish i could stop writing about you.
Yv S Nov 2016
// he came through the door and called himself god
when my name is goddess, phoenix fire and bullet.
dare he call out again after witnessing my wrath,
and fire consumes all for it has the will.

// we love and have been loved and there is an after this,
but for now I have fight and fire and I can be the wings
or the weapon, dare you call me down from here,
and my words will sway you to run lest you regret it.

// they asked me to play and so I played to the end,
played them out and further out into the forest,
dare they scream -- I have not forgotten where they are,
my demons are not tired if they want more

// but I have seen you before in many forms,
all of which I have conquered and seen rise from dirt.
I take no pleasure from this: I dare you to,
and I will show you a world you had wrongly forgotten.
Yv S Nov 2016
in a chance meeting, fire and ice interlock into a helix,
where they brace each other and fight with ***** fingernails.
behind ribs, a bass reverberates and a bite pierces the vein,
the vein which carries apathy and empathy and life.
a version of a ****** with her knees knocking close and hard,
bruised and grazed will make herself cry with broken glass.
if there is love it will lay under layers, suppressed and bleeding,
and if there is lack it will be worn, and worn out, exhausted.
is it a holy thing to feel? is it a holy thing to not?
                                               eyes lay heavy and water down cheeks,
                                               unprepared for the shove down into feeling,
                                               had you prepared yourself for this,
                                               then the overwhelm of air would not hurt
                                               and burn your lungs so fiercely.
                                               (is it a holy thing to feel?)
                                               (because you have to feel.)
                                               (is it a holy thing to not?)
                                               (because it hurts.)
Yv S Oct 2016
i couldn't muster a fraction of love for myself.
in tongue, i choke and it falls back into my chest.
i could explode if you poked me or
i will stay put, filling even more. ever-expanding.
in weight and in presence, and yet i am nothing.
in existence, i have no ripple and
i am still filling.

i cannot muster a fraction of love for myself.
and i cannot burden you with a word or two.
so i am still filling, no intent on being large.
but i am.
and i await the day i explode and dissolve into thin air.
like i deserve.

i will not muster a fraction of love for myself.
not a fraction i would deserve.
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