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Delia Grace Dec 2019
I am a menace.
Scuttling between paper leaves
and doors. I can’t tell
which ones are unlocked.
My clattering legs will
skitter across your countertop,
and I have felt so small.
I have been out of sight
longer than I’ve been alive
and I knock your dishes
onto the under-grown floor.
The tinkling of porcelain
is my alarm clock.
I bounce off the fine china,
my arms stretched around me,
and I wonder how
you could miss all these pieces.
My hands are too small
to cause such destruction.
But my hands can reach
much further than yours.
So I slide myself between cracks.
I become a line,
another crack,
and I bring you the slivers.
Wedged between the tiles
and glittering from termite holes.
I bring you the glue
and my sickly face blushes
from embarrassment
and apologies.
I am learning what good
my hands can do
as I bandage and kiss
your poor, ****** fingertips.
11/8/19
Trinity Jones Feb 2015
As the days get deeper
So does the hole

People start losing their unique ****** qualities
The objects in your house become dull clutter
Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and
All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is.

The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge
Are the words that pump out from your lung,
to vibrate from your vocal cords,
then are fine tuned from your larynx,
and emanate from your articulators.
Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole.

Sometimes it’s not words
but actions
That burry me under and into the darkness.

This hole I speak of,
***** you in and won’t let you out
Until you’ve admitted defeat
And hell,
You’ll never live to see the day that

I, Admit Defeat.
There’s shadows and there’s truth
And there’re places I can’t reach
Oh, there are bright scenes
So shiny so real
That’ll never occur.

My voice to you is clatter
Filled with eerie sounds
Pretending to be words
Pretending to be significance
Deftly interconnected.

Have you also noticed
There’s always a taste of loss
Every time we keep talking
Instead of kissing
Instead of simply stay still?

Sorry about this nostalgia
I only want to have less
Only want to stop gaining
Feel you not with the skin
But by being entirely you.

Want to hear you as a verse
Ready to form a universe
Ready to claim beyond language
Spitting all purposes
Collapsing time, going ahead.

Let me loose the meaning
Beside your worthwhile hips
Let me be as a cell
Able to raise a galaxy
Let’s fulfill silence*
                                   >
                                          *Let's arise sphere.
(29-10-2014 (¡My 3rd poem written in english! Pleae let my know if something is misspelled. Thank you.))
Trinity Jones Sep 2014
Sometimes
I catch him just looking at me
and my mind goes blank.
The way he looks at me
is one of the best feelings;
I feel wanted,
I feel like I'm the person that someone else
needs.
The way he holds on to me
feels like he never wants to let go
and I feel more than safe
but I can't have any of it.
I can't fall for the way he
gazes at me
and  I can't long for the way he
holds me.

— The End —