[x]

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.

NecromancyShe replaces her wrists
with the sharp thorns
of roses and slurred
don't-touch-me's

-

as she speaks
in an old tongued
language that whispers

de

cipher

me.

-

She collects stars
on her knuckles,
& her dust eyes
are sad moon nebulas
starved for love.

-

But, the kisses
she sinks into the curve
of her lover's ribcage
by night, warm that
supernova heart.

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?

Her eyes scream fill in the _____.They said
she has starving
little poet fingers,

& lungs-

filled with
the heroic hearts
of nameless protagonists.

But, she cries

tears of Saturn
on too-little-sleep nights,
& coffee ringed mornings.

They call her vanilla.

Innocence,
much too ripe to fall
with freckles on her
wander(lust)
shoulder-blades
singing connect-the-dot

blues.

Collection of poetic nothings.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 s

GravityAutumn wanted to learn
how to

fall.

So, the galaxy of dead trees
coiling in your lungs
devoured her spine.

Your gifts,
a lifeline wrapped around
her neck like a noose;

an orange and red
assisted suicide.

& you said "God bless your
heart." like some divine
higher power could forgive
her for loving you.

Mabonthere are dead leaves
sprouting from her amber spine,
reaching with child-fingers
to devour the sun.

her skin is freezing,
seeping winter through
november pores.

seeking warmth,
the whiskey tongues
of godless boys
wish to decipher
the atlas of her thighs.

counting the sleepy fireflies
alight in her lungs- there is
wanderlust churning & warming
her frostbitten heartstrings.

swinging pendulum hips,

"I am the tease of autumn flames.
I breathe in mint sunsets,
& gasoline dreams."

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.

Post MortemI am a walking, talking universe of dead poets
who tattoo their stanzas into my flesh
with ghostly, typewriter fingers.

I live and breathe their worldly disasters
like a nicotine addiction I've never had.

Drowning in their scribbles
I kiss their shoreline romances,
envy their Annabel Lee's,
& carry their hearts in my heart.

I am 7am coffee on Sunday mornings:
a half drunk, hungover limerick
waiting to happen.

I am jealousy:
nothing more than weak words,
& a tongue-tied cliche-

but death becomes me.

Stephanie -Collab(I wrote us in free verse over every inch

               of your tattered surface ).

you were the beatific grin

of a kindergartener high off oxygen,

mouth stretched wide as the entrance to hell,

black tongue bleeding virtuous sin like ichor.

(You taught me praying was for the weak

      as I fell for your gypsum nails,

               white teeth scrabbling over my chalkboard frame).

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

Scorpion"Show me your bones."

the atlas of her thighs quaked
as she misplaced her skin
in the backseat of his car.

"I'm a scorpion, you know-"

a messy promise
folded napkin-neat.

"Prove it."

& she smirked,
sure of her limbs,
her scars, & her teeth.

"I dare you to stake claim to this clavicle."

I could make a list,but I merely bit my lip when she asked me,

"What is it you're thankful for?"

How could I tell her
I was thankful for this heart
that beats a thousand times over
when I hear her speak?

A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,

devoured blasphemy-

hallowed out, & spit back up,

( you are afraid. )

Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;

god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves

grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.

( spread your legs. )

Red-inked and trembling,

prosetry masked as screams

knots into her anatomy.

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.

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Secrets and Alley Cats -Collab-I wont let you burn out baby-
I'll just douse your flame.
Quick question, love
I mean 'love' as in has-been.
Like the images on an inkblot
What did you see in me?
Was I easy prey-
With weak written in my skin?
You hadn't met vengeful
Until you met me.
I'll admit we had our fun.
With so many undisclosed moments,
You're that dirty secret
on the tip of my tongue.
After all-
It's no longer my ear
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Like A DrugShe writes to stop the cravings.
An itch she can't find to scratch-
It's a tugging on her heartstrings.
The voices inside her head
screaming-
She has been quiet for too long!
The slithering snakes in her abdomen
demand her thoughts be written.
Crawling up along her ribcage,
They coil around her lungs.
Angry fangs slash at her insides
until their venom leaks
from out her veins
and through her pen.

For the Love of Poetry.I have no idea why
I write love in the
form of poetry.
I've never been
'in love'.

I'm just a liar,
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You never did love meWilting like snowdrops in the rain,
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Every scar rose above the skin.
-Every one that you had kissed-
As your lips pressed to [her] wrist.

ControlGliding spider-like fingers along your spine-
I took pleasure in the way you s h i v e r e d .
I kissed your eyes, one at a time and back again.
You swore you saw the s t a r s
forming constellations behind your lids.
Please slipped between your gritted teeth
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Like A VirusMy veins d
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My       is        with
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Like scrap paper in an o v e r f l o w i n g waist basket,
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Heroine

by *DearPoetry, Nov 17, 2012, 6:48:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Sometimes, she tries to fall into the night, tipping her strawberry heart like a tea bag into hot waters- always scolding herself kissing ocean beds. Her hips, tides rolling towards the antagonists of myths & legends. _{_{But, with a thousand leagues of sea behind her eyes, she will always save herself.}}

Heroineby *DearPoetry

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I wish I could see myself as the heroine of my own narrative.

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~TBHMB Nov 19, 2012

As much as I love this, I can't help but wonder if you could have meant 'dipping' instead of 'tipping'.
I can see how tipping could go there. I just couldn't help but think dipping could maybe fit too.

I guess it comes down to how you want it to feel. For me, tipping is like we're staying at the edge, never quite submerged. But with dipping, I think, we've completely went under the surface even if it was only for a few seconds.
But... that's just how I feel...

~februaryblue Nov 18, 2012 Student Writer

I really love the imagery in this poem. I agree that the second stanza seems a little weaker than the first (as another commenter mentioned), but I do like the second stanza and what you tried to accomplish with it.

"Her hips, tides rolling / towards the antagonists / of myths & legends" is interesting because it made me think of sexuality and how intimate an invitation that would be for those antagonists, like she needs a reason to protect herself or something to fight against if she wants to make herself stronger. On a side note I feel like the ampersand looks a little awkward. I'm not in the practice of using it myself unless it's in a title, but that's just my personal opinion.

*bloodawni Nov 18, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

There's some really gorgeous imagery in these words, especially the strawberry heart tipping like a tea bag. I really enjoyed reading this one, but I did find a few small things that drew me out of it.

The biggest 'issue' for me was the use of scolding after the hot waters makes me wonder if you really meant "scalding". Both words could be right, depending on what you intended for that section, but because context suggests "scalding" would be more appropriate, "scolding" detracts from the overall power.

In your second stanza, I found the extra line space between each line quite distracting - it felt like each should be its own stanza, but that really interrupts the flow. I'm even wondering whether the piece might be more powerful without the stanza at all - it doesn't have as much 'zing' as the first stanza did and although it does pull the poem further in line with the title, I think the title itself gives the first stanza direction.

Another one, which may just be a personal thing, is the use of the capital 's' in 'She' after 'Sometimes,'.

All that said, I did really enjoy reading this one. Your word choice suggests a good instinct for turning mere words into beauty and power.

*DearPoetry Nov 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you for this.

I meant 'scolding', as a play on words, and as a way of saying she asks herself, "Why do I do this every time--there is something wrong with me."

As for the second stanza, I wanted the font smaller, but when using sub text font, it spaces the lines, unfortunately.

I fixed that annoying S, thanks for pointing it out to me.

*bloodawni Nov 19, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome.

Fair enough re scolding, that makes sense as well, definitely.

How annoying re the subtext font! Could you use the point size to change the font instead, maybe? Just throwing ideas out there - I'm not sure what you can/can't do on DA yet in terms of formatting!

Glad to hear about that S fix.

So easy to do, though - I know I've been guilty of it plenty, and not caught it until someone's mentioned it. Funny how something so small can make such a difference.

~madameshadowenn Nov 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is lovely, I like the description of her heart very much.
Just wondering, did you mean to write "scalding" instead of "scolding"?

*DearPoetry Nov 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Nope, I meant scolding.

~madameshadowenn Nov 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, okay then

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~jessica35 Nov 18, 2012

Yes! So empowering

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