#spilledink poems on Hello Poetry

fray narte Jan 2021

To Fria

In all ways, I have lined up my scars and written them insincere apologies; each word — a mockery and a transgression carelessly thrown in the night. I have allowed dread to settle deeply between my collar bones: an arrow buried between antlers until it unsettles and chokes. I have sewn sadness into my skin, like a dainty, silk sundress; worn it to church and to the funeral mass of a little girl I had to ****. She'll never know how much I mourned her, how on some nights, I still do. In all ways, I have looked at my skin, my fingers, and calves, and tailbone and saw a body that's never known gentleness or summertime souls or the gentle falling of the rain.

So after all of that, how, then, can I hold my heart now, without ever breaking it?

Tell me — how long can I hold my heart without ever breaking it?

#poets #poetry #prose #spilledink #spilledwords #spilledprose #writers #musings #sadness #pain

fray narte Jan 2021

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such softness i covet compulsively, and yet all i can do is watch myself dig a mass grave for the white tulips i ripped apart. watch myself crumble like weathered obsidians. watch myself unbottle self-addressed apologies, and choke on all the softness i never had —

until all there is is my skin, drenched in ghostly disquiet.
until all there is is an ugly sight of breaths, hoarded as they fall.
until all there is is just breaking.

and until all there is,

is me.

#poetry #poets #spilledink #musings #spilledwords #sadness #depression

fray narte Jan 2021

disembodiment

oh, to crawl my way inside,
to scoop dahlias out of my throat —
and find the dumping site for all the gods
that died in my hands —
to this there is no absolution.

to crawl my way inside
and find the veins that survived,
the veins that did not —
the veins
too late to be saved by prayers.

to crawl my way inside
this skin — this catastrophe:
all flesh and a pool of blood
and all the nights i didn't drown
and perhaps soon,
i'll finally get to my ribs,
part them with all the softness
that my cruel hands can muster
and stare at the quiet, incomprehensible aching.

as though the calm will remain
suspended in the air.

soon,
it will all fall away.

#poetry #poets #poems #spilledink #depression #sadness #pain #loneliness #fraynarte #writers

fray narte Jan 2021

Genesis 3:19

dig me a boneyard in a field of daffodils —
beneath their sunlit softness
and rustling leaves;
they aren't the first things
my body would ever taint.

i used to tremble as sunlight ran down my skin:
a crouching, wounded fawn
that knew no god —
and if there was, it would be of death.
i used to tremble as sunlight ran down my skin,
before dissolving into
a thousand foreign sorrows i cannot name.
now, sunlight just leaves a trail of smoke —
a forest fire beneath my feet
and no ashes to rise from.

now the rain just falls passively on the soil
but what good is petrichor
when it's your body that rots beneath the dust?

for out of it were you taken;
and unto it shall you return.

dig me a boneyard in a field of daffodils —
beneath their sunlit softness
and rustling leaves;
they aren't the first things
my body would ever taint.

dig me a boneyard and call it transgression.
i was not the first thing
i did ever taint.

#poetry #spilledink #poets #fraynarte #words #poems #spilledpoetry #creativewriting

fray narte Jan 2021

conundrum

maybe if you skin me alive, we’ll both know, finally, that this rotting chest is no place for you to leave love songs lying around. you see, my heart is both a soft and cruel place; each beat, a subtle atrocity to spilling outbreaths — a sheath for keeping your hunting knife. if you skin me alive, you’ll see the ghost towns after a new year’s eve. the slow dancing of grief before it screams its way out. the stab wounds, quiet and unhealing between cotton rows. the afterglow, graying at human touch.

if you skin me alive, you’ll see that there is no place for you here. you’ll see trembling. you’ll see staying still. you’ll see running away and never looking back. both wonder, and a conundrum — maybe more of one than the other.

these days, i am no longer sure if i am writing you love letters or writing you all my goodbyes.

maybe it’s more of one than the other —

maybe it always was.

#sapphic #sapphiclove #wlw #wlwpoetry #poets #poetry #love #writers #spilledprose #spilledink

Eli Jan 2021

Insomnia

Up all night,
I can't sleep.

Losing my mind,
I'm in too deep.

Drowning underground
in a rabbit hole,

Will what I've found
make me whole?

#sleep #musings #thoughts #spilledink #questions #searching

Kat Schaefer Jan 2021

Logan

You’re a cup of black coffee
Bringer of comfort, reminder of home
But like my teeth, you have stained me
Beyond human repair
And the love that you now show
Only deepens the memory
Of who I was
Before I was yellow

#spilledink #love #heartbreak #sad #bf #gf #ex #poem #poetry #writing

Kat Schaefer Jan 2021

Stomachache

You are maple syrup
Unbearably sweet
And I like you on my tongue
But I know that you would
Surely rot my insides
If I indulged in you daily

#love #spilledink #loss #poetry #sad #maplesyrup #relationship #poem

fray narte Jan 2021

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but what if i am all the things i couldn't heal from?

#spilledthoughts #thoughts #spilledprose #poets #writers #musings #spilledink #pain

fray narte Jan 2021

redamancy

to kiss you senseless until i am a seaglass buried deep inside your skin. to lick salt off your palms with paper-cut lips, until each breath has gone haywire. to quietly sigh your name until it baptizes my heathen tongue. oh, the wars i would start; the wars i would end — darling, there is something soothing about all the violent ways i can love you.

#love #lovequotes #lovepoetry #poetry #prose #spilledink #spilledwords #spilledpoetry #inlove