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#unraveling
I ache for the weight of his hands, his gentle conquest, my weary surrender. The clasp undone, a silent unlocking, and I, frail as dusk, lean into him, his chest a steadfast haven of warmth. Fingers trace the curve of my shoulders, slipping straps cascade like autumn leaves, an ending, a beginning, all at once. His palms cradle me as if I am fragile, a vessel brimming with quiet holiness. Each slow circle of his thumbs awakens, the soft rise, the quiet swell, and I sigh, drawn beyond fatigue, into the calm of his knowing touch. His breath spills against my cheek, words melting into my hair, unheard but understood in the trembling silence: "You are mine; I'll not let go." The hush deepens; the world recedes. Our bodies thread with unseen bonds. I live only in the space of this, the boundless gift of being undone.
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2d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 12:58 AM UTC
The Unraveling of Touch
They told her it would slide past, stay obedient to the dry half of the state. But storms don’t listen, neither does she, so she drove. Rain knifing sideways, taking the road with it. I was upstairs waiting, lights low, bed turned down, wanting her hips, her command, that winter-bright authority she wears without apology. She was coming for me, her desire as wild and misdirected as the weather clawing at the highway. Wine still wet on her mouth, twigs caught in her hair, the careful heels of a woman past fifty hitting every flooded seam, garbage lids rolling in the street, plastic bags pinned to palms. the world already tilted and she was driving straight into it. The lot was empty, bright sign flickering like a dying star. No familiar cars, no doorman, just a clerk blinking at her as if she’d dragged the storm inside. She went to the bar first. That single eye of hurricane blue ripping across the screen, a storm grown hard over weeks of warm water. Rivers swollen. Houses gutted clean. A road split like a country losing patience. She finished her glass, got another, moved too fast, caught a chair, dragged a sleeve through someone’s fries and kept going. The hallway swayed with her. Leaves tangled in her hair. Her skin hot, pulsing. That voicemail rising again— her granddaughter’s voice, small but steady. Hi Nana. Two years old and already drifting further than she could follow. At the Function Room door she heard laughter, the sound of people safe from weather. Not her people. Not her party. Still she stepped inside, her own storm closing the distance. Faces turned. A hand lifted, uncertain. Elizabeth raised her empty glass, like something pulled from the edge after the water receded. Silk blouse soaked through, pearls cold against her neck. It’s me, she said. It’s Elizabeth. The room went still. The man by the bar tightened, eyes narrowing as if to read a label long since worn off the bottle. Who is Elizabeth?
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Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 2:10 PM UTC
Elizabeth
They told her it would slide past, stay obedient to the dry half of the state. But storms don’t listen, neither does she, so she drove. Rain knifing sideways, taking the road with it. I was upstairs waiting, lights low, bed turned down, wanting her hips, her command, that winter-bright authority she wears without apology. She was coming for me, her desire as wild and misdirected as the weather clawing at the highway. Wine still wet on her mouth, twigs caught in her hair, the careful heels of a woman past fifty hitting every flooded seam, garbage lids rolling in the street, plastic bags pinned to palms. the world already tilted and she was driving straight into it. The lot was empty, bright sign flickering like a dying star. No familiar cars, no doorman, just a clerk blinking at her as if she’d dragged the storm inside. She went to the bar first. That single eye of hurricane blue ripping across the screen, a storm grown hard over weeks of warm water. Rivers swollen. Houses gutted clean. A road split like a country losing patience. She finished her glass, got another, moved too fast, caught a chair, dragged a sleeve through someone’s fries and kept going. The hallway swayed with her. Leaves tangled in her hair. Her skin hot, pulsing. That voicemail rising again— her granddaughter’s voice, small but steady. Hi Nana. Two years old and already drifting further than she could follow. At the Function Room door she heard laughter, the sound of people safe from weather. Not her people. Not her party. Still she stepped inside, her own storm closing the distance. Faces turned. A hand lifted, uncertain. Elizabeth raised her empty glass, like something pulled from the edge after the water receded. Silk blouse soaked through, pearls cold against her neck. It’s me, she said. It’s Elizabeth. The room went still. The man by the bar tightened, eyes narrowing as if to read a label long since worn off the bottle. Who is Elizabeth?
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70
I know that there was a line that I sewn upon my skin Thread made of emotions that I couldn’t hold on to They slipped and slid and came out of my grasp And if I tried to lock them away, they’d easily undo the clasp I sit at a wheel, my finger at a thorn, Spinning roses, and flowers, and threads for toys If I can create something, something to be kept, Would I someday find these things again and learn to accept? Or would the thread someday fade and unwind behind the scenes Undoing in the corners, ripping the seams Things like these, I know, weren’t meant to last forever They were meant to be loved, cared for, watched, and maintained. But if I cannot move myself from this bed, And catch the hands of the monster speaking in my head Would I be able to learn how to thread the eye of the needle So I could learn to love again?
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Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 11:47 AM UTC
Embroider at the Loom
I am the Pisces, suffocating beneath the weight of my own sorrow. You watch as I fight against waves that crush the will from my bones, A fish whose scales are heavy with despair, Whose heart is a shattered thing, lost in the vast, unforgiving deep. Each breath I take is a revolt against this abyss, But each breath is a futile attempt to resist the inevitable. You call my name, beg me to stay— But the current is merciless, pulling me into the blackened void. I swim in circles, drowning in a silence that devours, As the water fills my lungs with its cold, endless ache. The world above is a distant, forgotten dream, One I can no longer reach, no longer want. I am the Pisces, swallowed whole by my own darkness, A soul unraveling beneath the surface. Your hands cannot break the tide, For I have already surrendered. It is too late. The ocean has claimed me.
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Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 12:22 PM UTC
Final Sign
You hear it, soft at first, A whisper in the night, A fluttering breath on your ear, A wish that won’t take flight. _Love me, Love  me._ The pulse quickens, The shadows grow longer, Each moment stretching Like time has forgotten itself. _Love   me, Love    me, Love     me._ It clings like the air, A taste on your tongue, Unspoken, yet loud enough to drown. The silence thickens— Can you hear it? _Love      me, Love       me, Love        me, Love         me._ It’s all that exists now, A cage you can’t escape, The need spirals deeper, Faster, tighter, _Love          me. Love           me. Love          me. Love         me, Love        me._ The walls close in, The words no longer hold weight, Just a chant, A prayer, A broken record. _Love       me. Love       me. Love     me. Love    me. Love   me. Love  me._ ___Love me?___
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Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 12:55 PM UTC
Love Me
I am bubbling, as the soup I stir on the stove Quick with anger, only I know dwells Quick with the tempered fury of a wrinkled brow Quiet the damper, let the billows out Dam is flooded, I'm what's left. Who is today when fury quickens In mind, or conquered day by day Simmering still, the soup is ready I lay still the doubts of today
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Oct 16, 2024
Oct 16, 2024 at 8:48 PM UTC
Mood
and your words unravel me like the silken strands you were woven from
0
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
The Undoing
The weathervane slept high above with a lolling head. Clouds were holidaying excessively in Spain. Sun was lost in a haze after chain smoking cooling towers. A lethargic wind, moseying low with cat-like whiskers, I hear it complain “I’m tired” in child-like whispers. My hands are sweat-sore with callouses And salty enough to summon the call of gulls in numbers; I find shade, imagining myself as a cartoon Huck Finn. When I put dry grass between cracked lips and think of dustbowls In a zoetrope of sun-stroke, I vanish through my buttonholes. This is now where one would rise, wake or come to. Nothing I recognise, else the world is enveloped in storms. I strain my sight, blink repeatedly to force myself awake, The angels are listening, I hear wheezing, see fingers in my dreams Gripping tightly to milk thistle stars, bursting at the seams. Amongst the angels, whispering too! Did the stars imprison you? Free-spirit like mother, but I slept our childhood through Sustained by knowledge gleaned from canteen floors— My eyes feel somehow sharp, heavy, like spears more than eyes; I thought I saw the weathervane spinning madly, unraveling the skies! Nobody talks about the weather. There is a good chance of wrought nerves. This is a time of stillness and dwelling on doorsteps, In doorways where death sits among us, resting his eyes, An end to the ration that was harmless reminiscence As memories go up in the heat like celluloid; Now the stars are a steely prison Heaven’s lustre is lost, missing. Through the angels I have seen that this is a time of living - Through our dreams I have seen that this is a time of living - Outside the confinement of the Holocene. —I have dreamt of drowning...often. I always seem to wake up out and breath and feel I can taste the salt in my mouth but fear does not play any part in these dreams.
0
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
Don't Wake the Weathervane
The weathervane slept high above with a lolling head. Clouds were holidaying excessively in Spain. Sun was lost in a haze after chain smoking cooling towers. A lethargic wind, moseying low with cat-like whiskers, I hear it complain “I’m tired” in child-like whispers. My hands are sweat-sore with callouses And salty enough to summon the call of gulls in numbers; I find shade, imagining myself as a cartoon Huck Finn. When I put dry grass between cracked lips and think of dustbowls In a zoetrope of sun-stroke, I vanish through my buttonholes. This is now where one would rise, wake or come to. Nothing I recognise, else the world is enveloped in storms. I strain my sight, blink repeatedly to force myself awake, The angels are listening, I hear wheezing, see fingers in my dreams Gripping tightly to milk thistle stars, bursting at the seams. Amongst the angels, whispering too! Did the stars imprison you? Free-spirit like mother, but I slept our childhood through Sustained by knowledge gleaned from canteen floors— My eyes feel somehow sharp, heavy, like spears more than eyes; I thought I saw the weathervane spinning madly, unraveling the skies! Nobody talks about the weather. There is a good chance of wrought nerves. This is a time of stillness and dwelling on doorsteps, In doorways where death sits among us, resting his eyes, An end to the ration that was harmless reminiscence As memories go up in the heat like celluloid; Now the stars are a steely prison Heaven’s lustre is lost, missing. Through the angels I have seen that this is a time of living - Through our dreams I have seen that this is a time of living - Outside the confinement of the Holocene. —I have dreamt of drowning...often. I always seem to wake up out and breath and feel I can taste the salt in my mouth but fear does not play any part in these dreams.
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32
Perhaps In a single motion He fell Wind in his hair The sky brightening His eyes closed Listening to the music of a faraway land Slight smile on his face If only he was sleeping.
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
Asphalt
The threads of my life Slowing being pulled apart Unraveling I do not know how to stop The damage Repair the holes They continue to grow These holes in my soul Constant pulling Unraveling My clumsy attempts At patches Failing over and over Can anybody help me?
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Unraveling
I find the time I spend alone in barren lands beholds a wonder all its own The dip and turn of roads leading to holes Bringing all the progress to a halt Exalted madness rules over logic not sought Chasms grow and here I am rooted to one spot Becoming one with complacency Once leading now takes second seat I see the scene of life so keen through eyes I've been I am not me I do not think I tread the ground with iron feet Unravelled it seems I've become a string In a single direction my being can be seen So many wrong turns and right twists Each leap leads to the next spread Snow so thin interrupted with each step And I trek Spilling my insides with each stride I try not to digress but the stress And the hate And my chest is raked with pain I can't go back but forward isn't there to obtain The air feels thin only teasing the blood in my veins A thousand stories on my skin, stained I've begun the process of forgetting my brain
0
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
Unraveling (Part two)
you said you'd pull the thread from my skin till my bones felt embarrassed by all the attention well they do and just a warning, you're about to pull the last thread that's holding me together.
0
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
unraveling
I have been unable to cope at night the past couple of weeks. Unable to do anything that resembles healthy. I am angry and lashing out at everyone I love. The little girl whines and cries; then ****** angry girl lashes out because she cannot take the crying. Then the unfeeling/super independent one screams that she needs NO ONE, and we would all be better off if everyone would just go away! For good! The torture at night is often unbearable. The little girl cries because it hurts so bad, physically hurts, and it is agonizing and beyond painful. And the terror is real to her and is happening all over again. The apprehension of waiting in the dark, alone and scared...part of her praying he will not come and another part of her wishing he would just hurry up and get it over with so she can go to sleep and escape. Why prolong the inevitable. It is going to happen, so just get it over with! Just do it already! What does that mean? Does that mean she is bad because she was wishing he would do it? Does that mean she wanted him to do it? And now she is crying. We all hear her. She is scared. Get it over with already! Just do it! It is going to happen so just do it now! She will not stop until someone hurts her. Because that is how it has always been. She cannot fall asleep until it is 'over with'. So ****** angry girl hates everyone because for awhile she felt safe, and the little girl was safe and promises were made that nobody would hurt her anymore. So why is she hurting now? Nobody can keep her safe anymore. And she does let him hurt her. After promises were made and the little girl believed. Nobody keeps their promises. I try to tell myself it will be okay. I try to rationalize all the different feelings. I try to get all of these girls to work together as a team, rather than the constant fighting and struggling. But I am not currently strong enough. I am as far from okay as the Earth is from the Sun.
0
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I am unraveling...
I have been unable to cope at night the past couple of weeks. Unable to do anything that resembles healthy. I am angry and lashing out at everyone I love. The little girl whines and cries; then ****** angry girl lashes out because she cannot take the crying. Then the unfeeling/super independent one screams that she needs NO ONE, and we would all be better off if everyone would just go away! For good! The torture at night is often unbearable. The little girl cries because it hurts so bad, physically hurts, and it is agonizing and beyond painful. And the terror is real to her and is happening all over again. The apprehension of waiting in the dark, alone and scared...part of her praying he will not come and another part of her wishing he would just hurry up and get it over with so she can go to sleep and escape. Why prolong the inevitable. It is going to happen, so just get it over with! Just do it already! What does that mean? Does that mean she is bad because she was wishing he would do it? Does that mean she wanted him to do it? And now she is crying. We all hear her. She is scared. Get it over with already! Just do it! It is going to happen so just do it now! She will not stop until someone hurts her. Because that is how it has always been. She cannot fall asleep until it is 'over with'. So ****** angry girl hates everyone because for awhile she felt safe, and the little girl was safe and promises were made that nobody would hurt her anymore. So why is she hurting now? Nobody can keep her safe anymore. And she does let him hurt her. After promises were made and the little girl believed. Nobody keeps their promises. I try to tell myself it will be okay. I try to rationalize all the different feelings. I try to get all of these girls to work together as a team, rather than the constant fighting and struggling. But I am not currently strong enough. I am as far from okay as the Earth is from the Sun.
Continue reading...
9
you were like my favorite sweater but I couldn't help but pull at all your loose threads so i could watch you unravel stitch by stitch now i'm left wishing that i had learned how to sew
0
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
sweater