#prosepoetry poems on Hello Poetry

fray narte Dec 2019

and i love you like this:

in these freshly washed sheets,
with our limbs tangling,
with your breath on my skin where my shoulder meets my neck
under your gaze,
under what's left of the stars,
in the air, the scent of coffee, and apple crisps, and something that's just purely you,
in these cold, quiet hours before the daylight,
in the every silent ticking of the clock
with newfound honesty
with newfound softness
with each calming of my breath,
with each time it's taken away
with the high of knowing you're here and we're here.
and with the fear of that high,
with the sunrise so far away
with us just lying here in the stillness, in the dark
in the inadequacy of poetry — darling this is peak experience. this is perfect.

#love #sunrise #prose #prosepoetry #spilledink #spilledwords #spilledprose #words #musings

fray narte Dec 2019

lucius

nothing good happens after 2 am.

and yet here we are —
a rather curious pair of star-litten messed ups;
they say that liquid mercury and bare skin
are never a good combination
but kiss me nonetheless;
hold me nonetheless,
burn me nonetheless —

after all,
temples get burned down for the idols they host.

nothing good happens after 2 am,
but then again,
this is no place for sunsets and poems and sunday dates;
this is the apocalypse —
trapped for centuries inside our skin.
so go on,
break me — crack me open and lick the wounds,
and then maybe we'll know why persephone keeps going back to the underworld.
and then maybe we can call it love.
so go on,
kiss me until running breathless
becomes our way of breathing;
this may not be something we survive.

after all,
the daylight is an estranged lover and we are this house's walls trying to forget.

nothing good happens after 2 am,
but you will be the reason for every word, darling.
you will be the nightfall-colored eyes,
the nails all painted black
from when you dug for the dirt in my chest.
you will be the forgotten histories,
the impenetrable groves,
the coffee shop clichés,
the storms that never pass,
the nights that never last,
the secret places and warzones
and cotton dresses and fallen peonies,
and a threefold heartbreak
personified —

after all,
heartbreaks feel better when they come from you.

nothing good happens after 2 am
but t h i s already is a cautionary tale, anyway,
even without the 2 am
and tonight will be us,
crying wolf and coming undone.
tonight will be us,
tiptoeing through a minefield of mistakes,
mistakes,
and mistakes.
tell me, what's the harm in another one?

tonight will be our mayhem
and our foreboding
and our free-fall —
fatal. irreversible. majestic.
tonight will be us —
foreign lands mapping each other,
baptizing each other, darling.

and tomorrow will be ours to regret.

#heartache #heartbreak #poetry #love #poems #prosepoetry #words #wordporn #spilledink #creativewriting

fray narte Dec 2019

icarus

i will pick you a bunch of sunflowers;
each one is icarus,
reborn from falling,
from trying to fly too close to the sun,
each one,
still facing its direction;
maybe it's a sunstruck shade of love, darling.
or maybe it's just a bad case of morning lunacy —

see, each one still has wilted,
each one still has withered,
each one is still a tale
of icarus falling to the earth.
and darling, maybe flying and falling for you
are still habits i'm yet to break.

— to the boy made of sunbeams

#icarus #sunflowers #poetry #poems #spilledink #prosepoetry #sun #greekmyth #words

coffeegirl Nov 2019

What is Light, but a Trick

but all is pink
and nothing is blue
except for his eyes
his eyes are polished
crystal
and nothing is grey
except for the thing
in the corner of the room.

#prosepoetry #heatherchistle #thetreesthetrees

fray narte Nov 2019

casualty

his chest was the ground caving in
in a matter of seconds;
it was the streets' sudden tremors
the wall cracks
and chipped rocks.
his gaze, hauntingly sad,
it was almost inviting.
and i was a girl,
all white dress and wide eyes
not really knowing any better;
steps, too careful
walks, too slow,
tracing the faultlines
misplaced on his skin;

it was an open field —
an open target for the lightning to strike
and leave its marks
and i was just a girl,
looking for poems
where they shouldn't be found;
on the palm creases,
and the curves of his lips.
i walk,
all tentative tiptoes
and a wrong step;
falling into each hollow,
each crevice,
each slit.

he was an earthquake, waiting to happen
seismic and sudden,
taking everything down.

and i — a nameless girl,
an inkblot for face and limbs
a paramour,
a secret,
all wrapped into one.

i — a doorstep kiss,
an uncertain touch,
a bedpost notch,
all wrapped into one.

and i — a jamais vu,
a face in the crowd,
a nameless casualty,

all wrapped into one.

#poetry #spilledink #prosepoetry #words #poems #sadboys #sadgirls #fraynarte

fray narte Nov 2019

lenore

metaphors can't fit
in the distance
between your freckles
and petals made of words
blooming from your lips
don't look like
aphrodite,
born from the seafoam.

your eyes look nowhere
like a map of constellations
sprinkled with
my favorite phrases;
they're not even the color
of my favorite coffee,
or the ink I use
when making my blotched poems.

similes,
paradoxes,
they don't even
run in your veins
or arteries.

and yet curiously,
seeing you still feels
like reading poetry.

#spilledink #poetry #prosepoetry #words #poems #love #constellations

fray narte Nov 2019

past lives

maybe in the past life,
we met each other
as the sun and the moon
during the first eclipse.
maybe we met
as the wind and
that mailed letters that flew
out of a messenger's bag.
maybe we met
as the shore and the sand,
and we carved our promises
on tree barks
to meet and fall in love again
here,
in places made of sunsets
behind skyscrapers
and storms that fit
inside these words.

and now,
trees have gone scarce
but i'm carving a new promise
on your lips with my ink:

let's meet again in the next life
and i hope centuries from now,
i'll meet you in the peak
of the ferris wheels;
you were still scared of heights
when we lived our third lives.
i hope i'll meet you
when i look away
after making up constellations
from the first stars that
come in with the dusk.
i hope i'll meet you
in coffee stained shirts
worn in underrated poetry classes.

and in case
we get to read this poem,

i hope can we recognize that
it's written by me.
i hope we can recognize that
it's written for you.

#prosepoetry #poems #poetry #spilledink #words #love #pastlives #pastlife

fray narte Nov 2019

poems

i'm so sick of cigarette poems and ***** poems and midnight coffee poems and summer rain poems
and all poems
that remind me of you.

well, they all remind me of you.

#spilledink #poems #prosepoetry #poetry #prose #words #musings #poem

fray narte Oct 2019

mica

she was just another poet
who wrote
late night proses
about smoking
ten cigarettes
in one sitting,
and climbing closed gates
at 1 am
and other bad ideas —
bad ideas
like him.

#badideas #baddecisions #girls #******* #cigarettes #prosepoetry #poems #words

fray narte Sep 2019

sticky notes

I will love the me
that squeals over cat videos
even though she's not
a cat person,
the me that sings
Disney soundtracks
under the shower,
the me that makes coffee
and finally sits down
to read the piled-up books
that were bought last year.

I will love the me
that stays in bed
and eats chocolates
for breakfast after a night
of mental break down,
the me that drinks beer
and shares cigarettes
with tattooed strangers
in a rock concert,
the me that writes
generic poems, hoping they'll
harness the storms
brewed by her brain.

I will love these parts of me —
both the good and the bad,
the breeze and the hurricane,
the gentle rays and the glare.
I will love these parts of me,
equally, completely,
kindly, softly, gently,
with no guilt or shame.
I will love these parts of me
with tenderness, and, patience
and understanding and care.

I will love these parts of me,
the way they deserve to be loved.

#selflove #poems #poetry #prosepoetry #spilledink #words #positivity