Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
wont be
an
fall


till your gone


in these puddles
we dream
of
your
reflection


this puddle
of
tears


you will be
my
last slip
?


















...
..
.
told the future
please baby
be my last
quit
running
crazy ladys
she grabbed
at
me
she ripped
the buttons off
of
my
favorite shirt
she was the first
of
how many loves


how many words my dear
may we call you my dear
we already called you over
we were hoping your hand
on
the
park bench

we will never forget these stotys
you have calmed me in an hour
of
need


there was never an case
of
want
between
me and you
it has always
been need
i need
you
i
love you

car alarms keep going off in my head
why are you stealing from me
we woke up and seen
you running
with
an
boy
with an
flannel shirt
fell back to sleep
dreamed we
hung ourselves with that flannel shirt



we woke up screaming
how many loves
?















...
..
.
don't let your webs grow cobs
that's what catches you
she was dreaming
her breath
put me
back
to
sleep

our song was playing
she was wearing that dress
the one she likes me to look at her in
she holds our her hand
it is her
we can
be
found dancing
her lips enchant me softly


me
softly
enchant
you

softly her lips enchanting me
what was this spell
midnights hour
bell
chimes
she can be
found in
these
arms
of
mine
let me whisper
enchant me softly
?












...
..
.
if we only wrote what you wanted to read
never mind
we wasn't writing for me
we were writing for us
...
let me
love her
again
we
would



would she
?













...
..
.
we were driving yesterday
it may sound crazy
but we did
it
to
her
while we were driving
...
got caught
in
my
skirt

i
am
an
woman

with snot on my sleeves
i treated an man
like he was
my knees
her flannel shirt
tugged on my skirt
an
other
man
drove
up
she gave him my nuts
now we drink mudd
from
an
paper cup
she pulled up my skirt
we tip off her flannel shirt
?














...
..
.
she saw an picture of an man
he was wearing an flannel shirt
if we ever see this man
we will honk
then go rent
an
diesel truck
to run him over with
thank you
...
we made him cry
i
am
the
one
left
to
wipe the tears
when we tell the truth
?
















...
..
.
we honk
you were me
then
i
could
still **** you
and live
it
don't work like that
so we wish
?













...
..
.
my name is mud
Fianna Beth Jul 2016
grin penetrating my mind and your touch - your grab - sewn into my side
sinking as a summer without fin(n)s drowning in your baby blues,
boy
and fooling myself into early christmas hollyboughs? go-lightly on me, oh please!
A ****** bisou beneath mistletoe
with curled toes and auroral, idolising eyes
fantasising eyes
overall, decriminalising eyes
Annie excuse at (H)all to see you and
re
-vive (mes soins, votre sécurité)
-kindle (the ignition to my inspiration)
-pair (poles apart)
a pair in the most offensive of ways
my only vice is cleansing yours
but your sins or psyche?
am i wounded or warming?
my truly fatal frailty
Women Who Love Too Much
Book by Robin Norwood
Fianna Beth Oct 2015
Papier-mâché skin held up by toothpick bones.
Composed of dainty flowers,
Paired with eggshell tiptoes

Used for skipping and prancing –
Prim, proper, polished
And petite, satin-gloved hands

To scrub the dishes with
Till unblemished to mirror you back, from inside out –
Purged, chaste, elegant.

Fragile.

But papier-mâché has layers of depth and
Skin thicker than at surface it seems.
Toothpicks can pick up the pieces

Of each hiccup or calamity,
Regardless of how small
And despite their size they’re not weak at all,

But, piercing.
Those eggshells shield and yield
The precious prosper of young.

Who’s to say you’re no cactus,
And not just some flimsy petal –
But you can bet you’re just as sweet.

We are composed of the iron
That presses your clothes.
Nip

Like the scorching tea served
On china platters.
Our rosé lips are pursed

Not to kiss, or gloss for backwards fairytales
‘Prince Charming’ turned frogs
But in revolt.

And revolt we will.
Next page