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#carthage
Bloodshot fractures underneath her skin, Cracking from inside breaking her within— A thousand hairlines tearing her apart, draining away all her promises… —unheard, unfelt, unseen— Much like the beatings of her heart. They were saline lips, The lips I’ve been kissing, Drier than the driest lips, stealing all my love… —all the long stemmed roses Even her warmth, missing… So different, From our start. Then, they used to sparkle, Then, they used to shine her lovely velvet lips painting crimson mine. I used to adore that smile, I used to love that laughter, Redder than blood— —No hue was ever better. Until I saw that color, on the lips of another man— And now she lays, kissing my shoes on the floor… And as I lean toward her face— —finally, her lips are blood red once more.
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Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
Saline Lips
Poor man, in recognizing his own wretchedness sole Upon the Plains of Tunis, and the pillars of smoke His enemy obliterated from the earth But their soul, Not so. Rome, his daughter, to one day be given to the field To be cast as coin and As a slave, sold The gift of Scipio's victory Fades unknown as the iron fence on the gates Pounded by salted airs And lost to bitter seas Or the broken spines of buildings drenched in sanguine pleas Of the demolished, pitiful Defenders of brooding earth. But do not despair young Scipio! Your tears need not plant themselves upon these sands And sow these seeds of eventuality Rise your Saber and shield, order the command For the sake of love and power, For the glory of your state Be proud, you great Achilles, ye servant soldier clean, Wash the blood beneath you, and give to them their deeds These men who dared defy you, your presidential will, The men who walked beside you, who suffered every ill To them you make this pact, to them your will enact-- To them your curse betrays you, to kin and king exact.
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Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Poor Scipio