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fray narte Feb 6
i disembody you in poetry:
thin scabs film over your bones,
i pick them until i find new skin to lay my kisses on β€”
a new land to baptize
with my own heathen hands,
i disembody you with them:
chest spread open like that of a dressed foul.
my body is too corrupted but it knows of intense longing,
piercing live-coal eyes, it burns
my neck like a crucifix,
like flames on a burning metal β€”
it heals, almost cleanses like holy fire
and with new bones,
i disembody you in poetry:
an attempt to see you, hold you, love you whole
without it consuming me:
a sight of pink lips, pink tongue,
pink columbines on your wrist;
i take apart your entirety,
press it, piece by piece on my fragile nail bed β€” hidden away
somewhere the world loses its sight.

and maybe now after all the cycles, it is the world's turn
to fumble far and wide, to despair in search for your hands β€”
your eyes
that unsettle and leave the cosmos
collapsing majestically
in its own harshest daylight

leaving us all disembodied
in blinding, vivid, solar colors.

forgive my compulsions to love you like this.
fray narte Feb 6
i can never love you the way i claim β€” delicately and without violence. i remember hating flowers and broken seashells, and my grandmother, hand-sewing pastel dresses. deep down, my bones are raised on stories of ancient wars and biblical battles carried from memory to memory, a string of generational blunders β€” i am made of my father's bitterness and my mother's denial. so i will love you with corruptions and apologies, with bled-outΒ Β veins, giving in like an emptied river, with all the poems i have read and forgotten, and with everything that makes me finitely human.
fray narte Feb 6
i am sorry but my bones will always love you like hell, like it was war, like the world needs to end in the process, like the hand of god, taking you out of my ribs and now he needs to return it back where it rightfully belong. i will always love you, in godless sacrilege.Β i am sorry if i don’t know any other way.
fray narte Jan 17
the stars weep over all the terrible ways i have loved you β€”
dress you in their light caught
in my aprium kisses and cigarette daydreams.
empty my ametrine veins,
disembodied to hold your bones together β€”
kiss you, break me, leave me
burning and trapped in a lantern room; watch me
sink ships to come back to your arms; you've always waited.
and they all still weep and fall
over all the terrible ways i'll still love you

long after they die.
fray narte Sep 2021
this cold sunrise will choke on all the dark, sunless ways that i am in love you. sweet one, let's watch the light as it falls apart and crawl, like ether on our golden skin. this is us sitting in the last of september's lights β€” this is us in the finitude of poetry, and i have never seen anything as beautiful.

— The End —