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Juliana Apr 2021
Strands of brown scattered
every which way, my hand
runs through my hair again,
my breathing deep.

Papers seemingly scattered,
a groove permanently centered
on the futon so deep I could fall,

Until my dreams
become my reality,
the words in my brain
painted onto the landscape,
my characters as real
as actors, newfound friends.

A knock on the door
snaps my thoughts back
into a file folder,
circled back to when
needed the least.

Who’s there?

The door opens,
breath catching
like a wish upon a star,
a man dressed
in a black suit standing
in the doorframe.

I’ve seen him before,
not once, but once
for every season,
a repeating figure
as familiar as my heart,
as unique as days
in the calendar.

I call his name,
the version matching summer
when the warm rays
fated to blind his brother,
when his sister destined
to lay across the asphalt,
her last breath a song,
voice fluttering,
soaring among the eagles.

The man says hello,
I ask if he’s real.

He assures me he is,
he has escaped the confines
of a page, allowed to dance
in the breeze, stroll in the sun,
find his way to me.

I ask of his family, his girl.
He answers, matching
to my memory meticulously.
His turn to present a question to me.

An offer to accompany
him to his world.
To feel the safety
of those pages,
the serif text wrap
around my body,
my organs spilling
onto the page
adding to it all
of my being.

I could find my home.
Be with those I love.

I answer him.
Pretend the formatting saved (first 'deeper' should be indented once, second 'deeper' indented twice).
fray narte May 2020
and my fingers will trace these scars on your chest — they're no fault lines but darling, i can fall and fall and fold myself into wildflowers on which sunlight unfurls. but this world, it's a battlefield and red roses bloom not from the soil but from the skin and every death feels like the first.

every kiss feels like the last.

and darling, tomorrow, we have all the time to be broken. we have all the time to grow up. but tonight, let me hold you close; my hands are weary of writing elegies. tonight, let me drown in your seastorm eyes; i am tired of looking for temporary ports and for all the wrong shades of blue. tonight, i will read you poems about a girl named helen, who loved despite the war. tonight, the world can crumble down and i can stay right here, safe and sound in the comfort of your sighs, like a girl resting against bruised lilacs. i can stay right here watching you sleep until the earliest hours, forever asking myself how can someone so ******, so broken by this world possess this much softness.

this much gentleness.

this much peace.

regardless, rest your weary bones, my love. morning still is far away.
Vianne May 2020
"ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ, ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴇʟꜰɪꜱʜ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ɪ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ Qᴜɪᴠᴇʀ ɪɴ ꜰᴇᴀʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴊᴏʏ, ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ," ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴛᴏʏ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙɪᴛᴇ, ʀᴇᴀʟ ʜᴀʀᴅ. ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴀᴛᴀɴ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ʜᴏɴᴏᴜʀ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀɢᴏɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀɪɴ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ɪɴ ᴅɪꜱɢᴜɪꜱᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ 100 ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛ ʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ. ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ʀᴏʟʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ 1 ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴋᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ɪ ᴡᴇᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋ. ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ, ɴᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇ "
Vianne Mar 2020
I ran towards the full moon, into the controlling night sky. I was breathless, chasing this mysterious guy. I asked myself “is it possible to be in love with someone you don’t know”. But we had met, in a dream, somewhere under the rainbow. The blinding moon casted my shadow, but as I got closer to my mysterious love, I knew there will be a faithful tomorrow. Even though I don’t know this fellow, he made me so happy yet so hollow. I felt so drained, my sadness still remains. Because I am chasing after a guy, with the darkness following me, but when I meet my love, I know I will be free. Just wait and you see, the way he will kiss me. And hug me. How he will adore my soul. Wait and you'll see... how we will
slowly become a whole.
fray narte Dec 2019
“maybe in another life, louis,” i finally said, staring off at the distant city lights and buildings, feeling the cold creep insidiously into my bones. his name easily rolled off my tongue like a reflex — a muscle memory so deep-seated and yet so strange and unfamiliar now.

silence filled the air and yet, at the same time, it was filled with other things — defeat, heartbreak, resignation, the sounds of vehicles speeding off. the pain gnawing in my gut. the regretful yearning. the need to just be stupid and reach out for his hand. the pain of knowing i couldn’t. the finality of the ending.

and yet, here we stood, too close and too far.

he nodded and stirred lightly, as if preparing to leave. my gaze shifted into his direction. his movements, still slow and graceful, and lit by the moon. it was almost too painful, almost too delicate, almost too poetic. i could still remember what falling in love with him was like. i could still remember him breaking my heart for the first time, until the time where there are no more pieces left to break. and i would’ve done it all again.

he finally spoke, bringing me back to reality. it was almost too soft, too weak, but i heard it.

“maybe in another life.”
Starry Aug 2019
On the two week cruise
Across the Atlantic Ocean
I see a ufo
No ******* comments.
Thera Lance Sep 2018
December tenth stares from a wall,
At a girl with night-colored hair and
Eyes the shade of a twilight
That blurs purple into the darkness.

The girl looks out
At the blurred edges of this night’s snowflakes,
Falling softly past the windowpane
And down to empty streets below.

It has been more than a month since her birthday,
Her escape from fourteen
That twirled around the clock
A hundred or more times before
Finally stopping.

Maybe not a hundred times,
It was only one month
Repeating again and again
With thirty days of sunshine and one of rain,
Only one of rain.
Madoka always dies on rainy days.

A teacup clatters,
Not quite the clinks of shattering glass,
But startling all the same.
The awakened girl looks into
Kind eyes and golden curls left free to spill over a friend’s shoulder.
Still intentional in all movements,
The golden girl continues setting up the rest of that midnight’s meal.

Tiramisu melts upon tongues as
Two friends sit in silence,
And two survivors let their thoughts soften with the disappearing cake.

The quiet reigns,
Until the twilight girl leaves
With the waking of dawn’s light.
A soft “thank you” drifts with the snow behind her
While unnumbered days rise up ahead,
Forever blocking her sight of what’s to come.
This particular poem is a fanfic tribute of the anime series, Puella Magi Madoka Magica. For those unfamiliar with the series, this poem is about a girl who survives a Groundhog's Day/ Edge of Tomorrow scenario where she's stuck in a month-long time loop for at least a decade and is forced to fight monsters and watch her friends and her loved one die again and again.
Samuel Apr 2018
“Fiethsing, no,”
Is something she hears a lot
From lots of people.
Almerius, Grus,
Mooj, even Milest.
Most often though
She hears it from her:

“Fiethsing, no
Get off the ceiling,”
As though there’s any better
Place to be read a book
Than up, up high,
High as can be
And free from all,
And the ground.

“Fiethsing, no
Chicken’s not food,”
Is really curt
Though it was just a joke
And not in front of Kaguya
Because she’s not cruel.
The rabbit heard though,
She thinks.
One can't trust them
they know too much.

“Fiethsing, no
You need to stay,”
She might dread most
Because it’s true
And she knows it.
But she won’t stay
And Zero knows it.
So they’ll fight,
Either here or later.
But they will
One way or another.
They know that.

“Fiethsing, no
I really don’t want your help,”
Isn’t any better.
It might even be worse,
Because it’s clear she does
When she needs it.
Tense and worried,
Far too much on her mind,
But Zero keeps on pushing
and pushing,
And hides away
As Fiethsing frets
More than most guess.

“Fiethsing, no
Please don’t go. Stay. Please,”
Is the worst.
Her desperate pleas
And that look in her eyes,
Paranoid and fearing
Even though she’d never leave.
She’ll wander, yes.
A lot, even.
She’ll always stay though
At moments like this
When Zero comes apart,
Incapable of believing that.
Or much else.

"Fiethsing, no
you really don't get it,"
is what she keeps on about
arguing on and on
with herself more than her.
Her mind plays tricks
and she seems so far away
and all Fiethsing can do
is sit there and stay.
She can't argue with Zero
not like this,
but she can stick around
even as she tears herself apart.

"Fiethsing, no
I guess you have a point,"
now that's more like it.
A sign
that the tide's receding.
She's coming back down
and she's coming back around.
The fear's there still
and they know it
the both of them,
but Zero's making it
bit by bit
back to her.

“Fiethsing, no
I think I’m fine now,”
Is the best to hear
When she’s resting her head
Against her
Worn out and exhausted
But finally grounded again,
Finally believing again
That she won’t leave,
That she’d never dream of it.

She hears it a lot
“Fiethsing, no,”
And she can’t imagine it otherwise.
Samuel Apr 2018
It’s fine
Is what she tells everyone
This day
Like so many others.
Fears run through her,
Her mind a mess of possibility
Infinite in number and horror.
Deaths here.
Failures there.
Maybe a grave injury at best.
Can they best this foe?
Is this the end of the Sages?
Is this the end of the world?
She ponders this
Over a cup of coffee
Poured by Moojdart,
All concern and bother.

It’s fine
Is what she says as she slinks off,
Telling Mooj again and again
Don’t worry, don’t worry
It’s fine,
She can handle it.
She always can, she always must.
Grus is worried too
And Milest
And even their leader
Who’s normally too vain to care.
She brushes past them all
To go and hide away
As she tries to fix it,
As she runs through bad ends
In search of a single good.
She can’t find one
Or even the hint of one
No matter how hard she picks
At the threads of potentiality.
There’s only more worries,
Only more failures,
Which darken the flame of Hope
Burning inside
Which she clings to so stubbornly
Even though it’s not her natural Will.
She’s got to.
She’s got to cling,
Got to be strong.
She’ll fix it, she will.

There’s a knock at her door
And it opens
Before she can even say no
Because that’s just how Fiethsing is,
Because that’s just how little she cares.
Really it’s amazing she knocked,
But there you go.
You never can guess with her,
But Zero can know she’s annoyed.
She snaps at her.
An admonition, a demand
To go, to leave.
That you shouldn’t just barge in
“I mean really, Fieth,”
And it’s fine anyway.
It’s always fine.

But that’s not what she came for.
So she claims.
She’s just here to find a book,
Steal it more like,
Like she always does
And Zero’ll never see it again.
It’s just a ploy anyway,
It’s just a ploy thankfully,
Fieth sets in on the search,
Looking for a book
And not speaking a word more,
Of concern or otherwise.
She’s simply an annoyance
That rummages through her things
After barging into her space.
Fieth’s one that’ll be ignored.
Has to be, must be.
So she drinks her coffee
And goes to reading,
Or more like looking at pages
As the words blur together
From fear
Now tinted with anger.

It’s fine
And Fiethsing sighs
Finally feeling fit
To make a sound
And even words.
“Wow, it’s hot.
Don’t you think so, Zero?”
There’s more sound too
Of rustling clothes
Falling off
Onto the floor.
A shirt gone,
More than likely.
Still searching too.
She pays no mind,
As little as she can.
She has a book to not read.

A book to not read
As a thought invades her mind
Of what Fieth must look like.
******* and slick with sweat
As she digs through her shelves
Musing to herself,
“Oh it’s not here either, oh dear.”
There’s a book to not read
As an image invades her mind
Of a hug,
Of a kiss,
A touch, anything.
Contact, warm and simple.
Memories flood
And imaginings more
As she has a book to not read.

Still it’s fine,
Just fine.
She’ll just read and think
On all the ways the world can end
Because that’s better.
Better than admitting she’s scared,
Better than admitting she needs help.
Help of any sort.
A talk, advice, a decision
Or a pair of arms
Wrapped around her waist
As she falls apart
Just for a moment.

“Oh, there it is!”
Rings out Fieth’s sing song tone
And she trots on over,
For once bothering to walk
And not float.
Just so she’ll hear,
Just so she’ll know.
It’s a kindness but it doesn’t feel like it,
More like a threat
That makes her sigh
Heavy and hard
In frustration
As she turns around to see
Fieth ******* and grinning.
It’s enough to make her sick.
With fury.
With fear.
With want.
She holds out her book
Arm outstretched
As far as it can go,
A barrier between them both.
She doesn’t want to play this game,
She wants to play this game.

Fieth takes the book with glee
And a pleased, “Thank you!”
Before she rambles on and on
About dull history being her passion
Don’t you know, Zero?
It’s charming,
It’s cute
And she just wants her gone.
Gone and away
With her mirth,
Infectious as always,
And her plans,
Impish as always.
So she turns back around
And grabs another book.
Another thing to not read
As she tells herself
That it’s fine.

It’s fine
As Fieth steps forward and
rests a hand on her
Gripping her shoulder.
It’s fine
When she says, “I went a bit far
Didn’t I, Zero?”
Which she did
But it’s fine
And it’s not.
It wasn’t far enough, not close enough.
She didn’t just grab her
Right there, right then.
She didn’t just force her down
Against her desk
And whisper in her ear
Just what she’ll do to her.

So she falls to her side
Just far enough
To fall back into Fieth,
Head resting right between her *******.
The grip becomes a hug,
Arm wrapping firmly around
Her frightened frame,
So frail,
Right now, right here.

“It’s fine,”
She says again.
This time it’s the truth,
And a lie
And she closes her eyes
And she melts
Right there, right then
In Fiethsing’s arms,
Though she wants nothing more
Than to chase her off.

“Just need a moment?”
Fieth asks
With a sincerity
That she so often lacks.
She’s not going to run off.
She’s not going to lie.
She’s not going to force the matter
Even if Zero wants her to.
It’s frustrating,
The fiendish way that Fieth
Makes her fend for herself
By pushing just enough
To get a decision.

It’s fine,
Frustrating or not,
As she pushes herself up and off.
Just enough to sit up,
Just enough to lean in
As she makes a decision at last.
Her lips part
And she kisses Fiethsing.
A moan escapes her,
A desperate plea
Muffled as Fieth’s tongue meets hers
And as Fieth’s hand crawls up her front.
Up her front, to her shoulder
To her neck,
Thumb rubbing idly, intently.
Intoxicating, it’s intoxicating
That sensation and more
As she leans forward the more,
Body pressed
Against Fieth’s.
Fieth who takes hold of her waist
With a free arm
And pulls her forward and up
To get her standing.
Two bodies, pressed together.
The kiss deepens,
Desperate all the more.

Her hands snake up Fieth’s back
And her nails dig into Fieth’s back.
Fieth who breaks the kiss
As she lets out a hiss
Of pained satisfaction
And who looks down
At her
As she buries her face
Into her chest.
She’s coming undone.
She’s starting to cry.
She’s clinging as she can,
Telling herself
Over and over
That it’s fine.

It’s fine
And Fieth’s here
Resting her cheek
Against her head
And with her hand
Stroking her hair
And her other
Holding her firmly,
Just as she needs.
Just as she needs
Until she needs more,
More than a hug
And fingers in her hair.

She slips away,
Steps on back
One step, then two
Until a boot clicks against her desk.
She looks on
Eyes pleading
As she looks on at her
Her shirtless lover standing there
Unsure now of what she wants
But so sure of what she wants.
More, her.

So Fieth steps forward herself
Hands taking to her dress,
Undoing the buttons
As Zero tries to slip out of it.
Abandoning it on the floor,
Her bra goes there next
And her underwear
And her boots too.
It all goes
Until she is laid bare
For Fieth to look upon.
Fieth who doesn’t strip entirely,
Keeping her skirt on
And her boots too.
She dips down into her neck,
Pressing her lips against
That flesh
Vulnerable, sensitive
Enough to elicit a sigh.
Enough to get a roll of the hips.
Just enough
And not enough
As she buries her fingers
Into Fieth’s hair.
Pulling, stroking,
Needing simply to feel
Her and only her.
The her that slips a hand
Right between her thighs
Right then, right there.
A finger searching,
A finger finding
Just how wet she is.
A finger searching,
A finger finding
Just how hard her **** is.
Zero finds too
Once again
Just how skilled Fieth is.
How Fieth can circle her ****
Just the right way, just firm enough.
Enough to get her biting her lip
And resting her forehead
Into Fieth’s shoulder
As she comes apart
In her hands.

It’s fine
As her knees grow weak
And her breathing quickens.
It’s fine as Fieth slides a finger in
And a second.
The welcome stretch,
The familiar tension
Makes her shiver
As Fieth reaches deeper,
Deeper inside
And as Fieth pulls out
And pushes back in.
She pulls her head back,
And lets out a moan
Saying her name
As she pulls her hair.
God she’s near,
God she’s close,
God she’s in.
In her
Both in body and soul
And it’s all she can do
But say her name again
And again.
A fevered plea
As she begs for more,
Begs for her.
As doubts begin to clear
And leave
Just for a time.
Just right here, right now
And it’s fine.

Fieth pulls out again
This time fully
Leaving a dull ache,
An urgent need for more.
She wants to swear at her,
She wants to beg to her
To go back.
Back in,
Take her right there.
She needs it, needs her.
Fieth doesn’t though.
She grabs Zero’s thighs
And lifts as she can.
And she gets it
Though she’d rather not.
Rather not wait,
But she does wait and she knows
And she shifts her weight
Until she’s seated right on her desk,
Until she’s pressed down on her desk.

Fingers out of Fieth’s hair
She gropes at hard wood
That’s cold against her back
While the warmth burns
Between her legs.
She looks at her,
Looks to her.
Fieth’s hands rest on her thighs
As she looks back
Right at her,
Like she sees right through her.
Because she does,
She always does.

A hand travels up her thigh
Tracing a finger across her body.
A touch electric,
But not enough.
Not enough but enough
To get her speaking, to get her begging.
“Fieth, please.”
But Fieth just grins,
Feeling her *******,
Admiring the look in her eyes.
“Fieth please just stop looking,
Just this once and **** me.”
The words excite
And torment
And her cheeks burn red,
More ashamed to say it
Than have it happen.
The word she hears back isn’t a yes.
It’s “No.”

It’s fine
Isn’t it?
What had she done?
What could she have done?
Is it ending here, now?
Is it ending with still more to go?
What could she have done,
What could have Fieth have done?
Her fears come quick
And they’re tossed aside quick
As Fiethsing’s grin widens
And she says
“I’ve got a better idea.”
That’s fine.

More than fine.
Fine as Fieth bends down
Hand resting against the desk,
The other heading right back down
To her thighs.
Right back to part her lips
And then she feels her lips
And she feels her tongue
Against her ****.
Her fears are dashed
Right against the wall
And she lets out a cry,
A trembling moan.
So satisfied, yet not at all
As Fiethsing traces her ****
With her tongue.
As Fiethsing ***** at her ****
She claws, she scrabbles
Searching for purchase on the desk.
Which can’t be found
And she can’t find words
As she bucks her hips
Against Fiethsing’s mouth.
Not concerned about noise,
Not concerned about poise
Her worries gone entirely
And only this moment exists.
Only their bodies so close
Yet not close enough.
Time fades, distance fades.
A finger slips in again,
Then two, then three
But Fieth pulls her head up
Just to get it all situated.
Just to get it right.
Zero whines,
“Fiethsing please. ”

It’s more than fine
As Fieth dips back down
And Zero grabs wildly
Looking for something to hold
To touch.
All the better if it’s her,
If it’s Fieth and it is,
Her hair.
Her hair that Zero ***** into her fist,
Her hair that she pulls upon
As the tension builds,
As the ache grows.
Until at last it rolls over,
A rush of sensation
And feeling
That shakes her body
And gets her to cry out
Impassioned, fevered ramblings
About her, about her,
God just her.

And it’s fine
As Fieth keeps working at her
Through the ******,
Past the ******
And into the pain
Of too much sensation, too much.
She moans, she whines.
She begs, she even swears
And she bangs a fist on her desk
To stifle the pain, the pleasure.

Fiethsing slides out
And sits on up
And she laughs and prods
Right at her thigh.
“I bet even Milest heard that.”
What can she do
But roll her eyes
And groan in exasperation
At that comment.
What can she do
But be glad
Glad deep down for it,
For it all.
Glad enough that she sits up,
Glad enough that she hugs Fieth.

“It’s fine.”
Samuel Nov 2017
Hear that wind singing there,
You can see it dancing too.
It carries messages,
Both important and pointless,
And always with a levity
But a gravity too.
That's just how the wind is.

Why not try dancing with it?
Skipping along as you drift
Through soft breezes.
Spinning along as you’re thrown
By rough gales.
These are the beats
Of an elvish waltz,
Or maybe a jig.

That wind’s holy
Watch it gain its divinity
from its lightness
And its firmness too.
It blesses us and the world
As it blows on by
At its own pace.

I call it to my side
Or sometimes it calls to me.
Either way who can hear it better
Than its Six Sage?
And who can step to its tune
Quite like I can?
You say I’m cocky,
But I think the truth’s in the pudding.
You think I’m fickle,
But what else is the wind but that?

I’ll gladly teach though,
As will the wind itself.
So tell me
Can you hear the wind singing?
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