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Cassia Baillie Jul 2018
Ecstatic tingles keep me alive hoping that someone will cut me like a knife
My buttery redemption deems a perilous pearl
To the fools who fall in love with this treaterous girl
I will break you apart
**** love out of your heart
And pop your joy into my mouth
Like a delicious pop ****
And rapturously smile painting ruin so smart
Your demise is my subconscious impeccable art
I am sorry.
You’re more tempting then heroine
Especially when you give me some tender love to hope in

My spirit animal might be an evil dragon
Or serpent goddess
Or something
Or maybe I’m just trying to fantasize over the fact that
I. Am. Not. Nice
My advice to you- RUN.
Nis Aug 2018
¿Adónde fueron ahogadas aquellas caricias,
perlas susurrantes que se llevó el viento?
¿A quien voló la marea,
como quien se lleva algo que no es suyo,
algo que siempre lo ha sido?

Tu lo sabes, Corsario;
Corsario traicionero,
tu amor son caricias que no tengo,
tu cariño son sonrisas denegadas.
Negaciones que no tengo,
amor cariñoso, sonrisas acariciadas.

Otros poetas nada saben,
nada saben de tus sueños, Corsario,
nada saben de tu cantar,
de tus canciones de ensueño,
tu dormir melódico.
Y sola aquí te espero, Corsario,
en el punto acordado al que no acudirás.
Y aquí te escribo, Corsario,
en el instante acordado en el que no aparecerás.
Y aquí te escribiré siempre, mi amor,
y mi cuerpo omnipresente llorará tu muerte.

//

Where did those caresses go drowned,
whispering pearls the wind took away?
¿Who did the tides fly,
like someone taking something that is not theirs,
something that always has been?

You know, Corsair;
treaterous Corsair,
your love are caresses I do not have,
your affection are denied smiles.
Denies I do not have,
affectionate love, caressed smiles.

Other poets nothing know,
nothing know of your dreams, Corsair,
nothing knkw of your singing,
of your dreamlike songs,
of your melodic dreams.
Alone here I wait for you, Corsair,
in the accorded point to which you will not come.
And here I write you, Corsair,
in the accorded instant in which you will not show up.
And here I will always write, my love,
and my omnipresent body will cry my death.
Prompted by "Adónde fueron despeñadas" by Cernuda

— The End —