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#changeling
My sisters and I jest That men never get over us. We have been named Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe But we are les belles dames avec merci And that is their undoing. Our breath has left them gasping With unfilled lungs We never meant to be their oxygen But they drink us in like drowning men. We didn’t ask for this, But disarming, we are soft enough For them to float in Belly up, eyes to distant stars Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins. Behind our teeth rests the love The world has failed to give them till now There are holds in the knowledge that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces, mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out, And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding. We never asked for this, They cherish the brittle changelings of us until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos. Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair they are scattered, undone. The distance drifts between, inevitable And full they turn away to starve We cut the mooring line After one too many storms, And search For safer Harbor.
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Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
Weird Sisters
brown skin farmer girl (this changeling poem) ~ we are I’ve decided alike and unlike. I know, an epiphany. we are both brown skinned, the sun has wrested my skin buried it in dark loamy, soiled brown side by side, now alike. your hair is long(er) now, mine too. a cascading mountain ranging, edging south from your Columbia, to my  Columbia over my ears, down my neck, which like yours, dreams knightly of being loved by endless kisses, a prince(ss) charmant ~ *we could not be more different, than how god us designed. but here’s the rub, people change, they dream of becoming, reinventing the original design, and this explains not the why, but the how, how this poet came to write this changeling poem*. ~ and you think we could not be more different and more alike, and you would be rightly correct.
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Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 8:08 AM UTC
brown skin farmer girl (this changeling poem) دختر کشاورز پوست قهوه ای (این شعر متغیر)
Prayers amongst the cold ash-stricken skies. I saw you there weaving pretty lies along edges of night, with all your hellish plights, as you lose sight, of your innocent light. Prayers amongst the cold eve of unquiet dead. I saw you there, screaming your past regrets, crying out what needed to be said, while following the blood you've bled, as you dye your childhood red. Prayers amongst the cold words of forgotten tales. I saw you there, with your abandoned sails, your dreams and everything you've failed, neglecting the praises you've hailed, while traveling the icy gales. Prayers amongst the cold, for the weeping stories untold.
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 8:07 AM UTC
The Changeling
I hide my tears to wipe away yours. I cry alone, so your pain cures. To hold my pain, and bleed so much more. Is for your happiness, to heal your core. You say such words to create a divide. Without the knowledge of the fear inside. Words like a blade slicing me gently. Eyes staring coldly, unblinking and intently. Say what you will about my care and love. Know you are wrong, your ego is high above. So you can fly away, leave me here to die. Understand this heartbreak can't be fixed by your lie. My love is still here, but the trust is forever gone. Blown away by your swords, my blood drained and drawn.
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
Changeling
--- she is defunct mother of a strange changeling she nurses it upon her own heart arterial blood of deepest crimson while It bites the ****** she accepts her fate and allows it to feed until it is bloated as a leach she allows this stillborn to drain her soul till there is no longer any joy nor pain love nor hate peace nor fear lust nor frigidity she has named her child loneliness and she lets it drain her til she is
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
surrogate