Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
is your faith so fragile
you **** to protect it?
no notes necessary
 Jan 2015 Taru Marcellus
One4u2nv
As a child I would eat crayons and then purge oceans onto paper.
She said, "I can't swim"
With a voice so confident
The ocean believes
They're still best friends.
 Jan 2015 Taru Marcellus
Mikaila
There's something about paint
That begs to feel skin
Something about
How smooth it is,
How it can rise and fall in little dobs and smudges.
Sometimes when it's very late
And I am painting and my palette is a whirl of color
I press my palms right into the middle of it
Like a child
And I settle them there, making sure every ridge and wrinkle is covered.
When I pull back and see the design
I always like my hands much better than before.
And then I think
Why stop at hands?
I stand and strip off what clothing I'm still wearing
And look at my body in the mirror,
All white and shining in the dimness, a sliver of bone
And I make it different with my hands.
Handprints.
I have always wanted to do it with a lover-
To cover her in painted handprints and have her cover me,
To wear the evidence of every place we touch
In the colors that blend on our skin.
Alone in the mirror,
I place careful palms on my stomach, my legs, my *******, my shoulder.
I do it until I like the dissymmetry of myself.
I step back,
And wonder why I feel that I look more natural like this
Than bare.
A tumble of black hair, a sheath of white skin,
And on it
Crimson
Gold
Azure
Onyx
Fiery orange and icy blue
Poison green and violet
Blood red and blushing pink
All swirled and smudged, holding the shape of my fingerprints,
And I am more me
Than I was before.
Later it will dry and crack like clay.
Later I will shed it like a second skin, fascinated by its uneven splattering.
It will slough off, painless and mesmerizing, and I will be what I was before-
A sliver of bone.
But for now I am a canvas, and tonight, for once, I have not been left
Unaltered.
Quit depicting yourself as the artist when you should be the one on the canvas.
 Jan 2015 Taru Marcellus
Hayleigh
When I hold your hand in mine
I have the entire world
At my fingertips.
 Jan 2015 Taru Marcellus
Hayleigh
I want to feel your fingers slip up my vest, feel your hot breath dancing down my chest.

I want my pillow embedded with memories of you that put fantasies and dreams to shame. I want scents, moans, tastes engrained.

I want my naked skin weaved around yours, I want to leave claw marks along your spine as you beg for more, smash your palms into our headboard.

I want to feel your legs shake, as I start an earth quake inside of you, that'll leave you quivering for days.
Next page