deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy ArtBuy T-Shirts & Gear Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
astrological.i.   On some nights,
    street lights guide
    this lonely heart
    to her lonely bed.

ii.  In this universe of twilight skin
    & mismatched bones,
    I wonder just how many poems sleep
    beneath the inkwell of her eyes.

iii.  My body is a house of stars,
     and her palms are black holes
     sucking ( me ) into their vortex of

     nothing.

iv.   She says, "Please—my moon,
     please—give these bones a reason
     to stay."

    & I am whispering lovelies
    into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.

v.   "Goddess temple,
     sunset eyes, &
     my windowpane love-

     Let us eat the stars
     t
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,
the embodiment of poetry.

& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.

wishes are for the weak-
stand up,
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.

Anything.

I think I found God then,
lurking behind wanderlust eyes.
dust.I'm choking
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;

the starving,
dead-flower scent
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.

How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?

How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
star-soaked frame?

Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.
fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.

& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.

but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-

Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.

I'm telling stories about a girl.

A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.

There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.

A rebel,
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.

Poetry,

She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.
William,If I am nothing but an actor
on a stage in this dust town
of rose torn bones and washed up
stars, why is it that the galaxy sculpted
crescent moons in my palms
ache?
FrostI am devouring chaos,
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild.  Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.

When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
Please, forgive me.Like lies, you said
I make breathing the cosmos
through rose colored lungs
look easy- vertebrae stretched
toward the moon.

& I'm hanging my bones
out to dry, carving Saturn's
rings into my wrists- my
star burst ankles.

I swore then I'd keep my
black tongued poetry
& uprooted limbs far,
far away from you.

But, like lies, galaxies,
& night fevers, you
are the destination
on my star map skin.
I want to forget names,& faces,
& people.

I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.

Spine full, and spiteful:

I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.

I want to cry for her
& for me.

But Shame,
she wont allow me the courtesy.
wet scribbles, tattooed tragedyI am shedding my skin
like the poetry that bleeds
from your ink-cracked lips
onto the bare bones of my
anatomy.

Unfold these moon-shy limbs
that chase silence
& beg stay-with-me.

For you are the only verse
hidden within this labyrinth
of scar-damaged flesh.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
                      breathe.
BloodI've got a filthy mouth,
& a house of stars
thriving in my throat.

21 years
silent

& I still have yet to tame
this grounded constellation
I call my temple. -Slithering
tongue hissing too many
"fuck you's" against my teeth.

I fear I will write myself hollow-
or until my bones are corroded away

& I am nothing-
an insignificant nebula
orbiting the wrong atmosphere.

But, my veins bleed sweet ichor,

& words are only words, Mother.
ConstellationShe is dream dust,
too bitter or wise
for her own good.

A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.

She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.

& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.

To me,
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos

& I orbit her.
Depression like lipstick stainsOn some days,

you are  the angel dust
settled in my bones
keeping these December limbs
& Sunday-morning-coffee eyes
warm.

But, other days-
other days, I don't know
what to do
with your tornado kisses,
rage teeth that bite
& tear at my poetic insanity.

With these miles and miles
of bodies & hollow space
between our magnetic hearts-

How is it that these light-year pulses
still beat in sync?
Androphobiai was stitched lips and a flightless raven heart-
all sex and a contorting spine;
his own lips engraving 'kiss me's' on empty stars.

& between you and me: i feared his teeth,
& tongue, & honest organs-
with skin that begged, 'please, don't touch me.'

don't touch me.
don't fucking touch me.

i am not soft.

there is a war raging in my lungs,
screaming through the uncharted galaxies
of my wanderlust heartstrings.

i am not soft.

i am lust, & war, & envy—

i am sin,
        
         crooked, misshapen,
& the kind of prosetry yet to be proofrea
Browse More Like This
Download File
HTML, 1.3 KB more ▶

More from *DearPoetry

astrology.i lost my cigarettes today while
sparing kisses to too many witches
with apastron blackberry tongues.

& like the scattered stars of scars,
saturn's rings whispered secrets
to the telescope eyes of these strangers
cradling galaxies between lovely bones-

( their fingertip heat
knowing nothing of intermissions. )
-this windowpane loneliness
has devoured too many stars
making love to ocean beds.
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,
the embodiment of poetry.

& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.

wishes are for the weak-
stand up,
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.

Anything.

I think I found God then,
lurking behind wanderlust eyes.
I want to forget names,& faces,
& people.

I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.

Spine full, and spiteful:

I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.

I want to cry for her
& for me.

But Shame,
she wont allow me the courtesy.
she knows her paper cuts by name.Rose blood
on her tongue
reminds her of yesterday's.
Lonely bones.
A heart's hoarded secrets,
love me pretties, &
scarlet letter dreams.
But
do these boys know
of the bitter winter
churning,
like a blizzard
in her veins?
The sharp edges
of half-empty
kisses,
or the crisscross
folding
of origami limbs?

Her eyes,
as deep &
unfeeling
as the ocean;

Featured in Groups:

:iconpencils-of-doom: #Pencils-of-Doom
After School Art Club :iconlooselacespoetry: #LooseLacesPoetry
Poetry Feeds Our Souls :iconaspiringwritersdojo: #AspiringWritersDojo
Don't ever stop writing :iconcreative-writers: #Creative-Writers
 :iconliterary-visions: #Literary-Visions
Transforming words into worlds :iconpoeticalcondition: #PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself :icondaily-art: #Daily-Art
Helping people reach out :iconrush-of-emotions: #Rush-Of-Emotions

Details

December 11, 2012
1.3 KB
Link
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 55
Favourites: 157 [who?]


Views: 1,824 (0 today)
Downloads: 30 (0 today)
[x]

Collection of poetic nothings.

:icondearpoetry:

We were opal Tuesdays,
mosaic butterflies
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,

gliding me through this wild youth.

But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings

touched the sun.

-

My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.

"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.

"Learn to love yourself."

-

How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?

"I want to replace my heart with you."


-

You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
heartstrings, spider
limbs traveling this road map
of songbird sin.

You are not just in my head now,
you are dancing in the lingering stars
of my night-witch frame

& setting me on fire.


-

You're not bruised enough
they said,
to write poetry.

-

Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.
:icondearpoetry:
Stream of consciousness.
Writing, no over-thinking it. Just writing.
I think I'm over my writers block, guys.
Because I can't seem to stop. :heart:

Each written in 5 minutes or less.
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
love 6 6 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 1 1
:iconhetaliatardis:
Mood: Love *hetaliatardis Mar 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Wonderful~ :D
Reply
:icondearpoetry:
*DearPoetry Mar 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconhetaliatardis:
*hetaliatardis Mar 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No problem~ :)
Reply
:iconpolislava:
~polislava Jan 22, 2013
amazing and touching. Love it <3
Reply
:icondearpoetry:
*DearPoetry Jan 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconfrenchy-chan4ever:
Mood: Neutral ~FrEnChY-cHaN4EVER Jan 13, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
my god...this is so..i'm speechless. :faint:
Reply
:icondearpoetry:
*DearPoetry Jan 13, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Wow! Thanks! <3
Reply
:iconkymira12:
!Kymira12 Dec 25, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Another great piece of writing :heart:

I love how no matter how I read it, your work just flows off of my tongue so smoothly. It was beautifully written and I especially loved 'Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.' since it makes the perfect ending. I really enjoyed reading this :aww:
Reply
:icondearpoetry:
*DearPoetry Dec 26, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! I never know how it's going to sound to other people because we all read so differently.
Reply
:iconkymira12:
!Kymira12 Dec 26, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
I know what you mean. Whenever I write, it doesn't seem like it's jumpy when others say it is :shrug:
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy