[x]

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

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

RepossessionYour words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding on
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.

My ribs cracked from the blow.

But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.

You were sweat & spice & scars-

Your eyes,
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.

(I want my insides back.)

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
breathe.

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."

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N o v ai.
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.

ii.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.

iii.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.

iv.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.

She has the moon in her eyes.But, this body is a black hole,
a hollowed out womb-
and these palms are sandpaper
thin and bleeding a silent stigmata.

"Not yet ripe to fall from her bed,
too young to understand her own limbs-"

She folds back July's origami skin,
wishing for the warmth of winters kiss.
She is a raven heart, thumping wildly
against the whispers of vintage lips.

Her bed is empty,
but the sheets are red.

Lonely Gods"I wish my body to be a staircase

to heaven." She said, "A conduit

of lonely Gods."—Swaying

pendulum hips, she, she

was made of stardust.- Scars sleeping

above a city of sweet bones, stirring

like sun-stricken scorpions during

hollow painkiller nights,

mistaking her redred burns

for Apollos kisses.

"Sadly, this body has whispered away
the last of my secrets."

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Submitted: December 4, 2012
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Please, forgive me.

by ~DearPoetry, Dec 4, 2012, 8:32:14 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

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.

Please, forgive me.by ~DearPoetry

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

We are all kinds of messed up, but that's okay.

Featured: [link] [link]

Critique by ~MountainMew Dec 4, 2012, 3:40:37 PM

I absolutely adore your choice of words and figurative language displayed in this poem. The visualization is clear while remaining ambiguous, that's wonderful. It's leaves a strong mark on the reader and doesn't over stay its welcome.
I think what I love the most about this piece is how simple it really is. It also remains up to interpretation, not trying to force a message on the reader with straightforward telling techniques. I love that.
If I may give a single complaint, I must say something about the flow of this poem felt unnatural to me. I think there could have been a better beat to the poem, but that's more of a minor nitpick on my part.
Overall, it's an absolutely wonderful piece, and I truly adore it~

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Critique by ~MiniDonut Dec 4, 2012, 12:50:40 PM

I must say, this poem seriously touched my heart. Every human being messes up, but that's okay. Maby everyone wants to be forgiven, who knows. You must like writing poetry- so do I! You have alot if potential in you. You used such, such words that could bring inspiration to us all. This is very creative since you used your imagination for this poem. In my opinion, this poem should have alot more views, favorites, and comments. I love it when people expresses others' or their own feelings through poetry. Makes me want to ;^; with happiness.

Thank you for writing this. <3

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*bloodawni Feb 18, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Your imagery is so stunning, in everything you write. Beautiful, as always.

~DearPoetry Feb 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

*bloodawni Feb 19, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

You're very welcome.

!Kymira12 Dec 17, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Hello *DearPoetry!

On behalf of #InspireTheUninspired we would like to congratulate you on being Featured within our group. Please take a look when you have time and support your fellow artists

Keep writing and inspiring!

~DearPoetry Dec 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Aww! Thanks! Much appreciated!

`thetaoofchaos Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I like the comparisons in the last strophe - a lovely close.

~DearPoetry Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much! I felt they fit!

*HanOneSail Dec 9, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Impressive imagery, hopefully, you find a way to get this painted out

~DearPoetry Dec 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Painted out?

!Kymira12 Dec 7, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

This is just so... wonderful! The images it evokes for me are great. I interpret this poem the same as ~karmacursed did and my favourite stanza is definitely the last two stanza's

you did a beautiful job writing this!

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Please, forgive me.by ~DearPoetry

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