Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
what is more gentle, than this pillow of the light? a life narrowing, in a bright feather dance that sweeps across the sea or covers our faces in shadows. where do you go when you leave me? now I am nocturnal, a bliss bandit, cooing at stars one thousand miles high. shaking like a tea kettle, I am the black *** black, shaking, shivering. Swallowing pieces of your light, in the back-room jungle where I sew, tears to the bottoms of my eyes, where no one ever goes. I know days, hours, one minute where I gambled time and stood behind you with my fingers on your shoulders and my mouth on your neck. What it takes to be apart, split in half, shucked from birth; it takes every thing I ever owned, every note I ever sang, each breath that I will make- some thought I stand up on, my knees quivering below me. five kinds of drugs just to see straight, to hold my hands steady or sleep at night. your lavender flavor is still in me. you in me. one. two. soaking in this forgotten city, Earth's heroes drifting away. I could never eat again, or cast a spell, or touch the same. while burning I may never stand on these same two feet again. four years, a photograph. one voice, softening into my skin, that I never may forget. that this beard is of an old man, should I never count again blessings or songs. I dive into the flame and study this journey backwards. so I should never forget, everything so serious as this as you, in me.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
/hours\light/pe[n]guins/spirits\incantations/l[o]ves/ May 15, 2013 at 8:21pm
what is more gentle, than this pillow of the light? a life narrowing, in a bright feather dance that sweeps across the sea or covers our faces in shadows. where do you go when you leave me? now I am nocturnal, a bliss bandit, cooing at stars one thousand miles high. shaking like a tea kettle, I am the black *** black, shaking, shivering. Swallowing pieces of your light, in the back-room jungle where I sew, tears to the bottoms of my eyes, where no one ever goes. I know days, hours, one minute where I gambled time and stood behind you with my fingers on your shoulders and my mouth on your neck. What it takes to be apart, split in half, shucked from birth; it takes every thing I ever owned, every note I ever sang, each breath that I will make- some thought I stand up on, my knees quivering below me. five kinds of drugs just to see straight, to hold my hands steady or sleep at night. your lavender flavor is still in me. you in me. one. two. soaking in this forgotten city, Earth's heroes drifting away. I could never eat again, or cast a spell, or touch the same. while burning I may never stand on these same two feet again. four years, a photograph. one voice, softening into my skin, that I never may forget. that this beard is of an old man, should I never count again blessings or songs. I dive into the flame and study this journey backwards. so I should never forget, everything so serious as this as you, in me.
martin-narrod
Written by
38/M/American
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem