literature

Poets should never make ghost children.

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Literature Text

I whisper cheap metaphors  
into your needy ears until, like  
funeral flowers, they rest upon  
the atlas of your mind.  You  
with your napkin love letters  
and cloudy storm eyes
are the only one to ever  
make my scaled spine quiver.  
But, my veins ache  
from consuming too much ink.  
I am gagging on black blood   
as it spills from your fingertips  
to rest upon my lips.  
You asked me once if I could read  
the words carved into my limbs  
like prophecies of you and I—  
we were written in the universe  
of freckles dotting my thighs.  
I tried to plot constellations   
along this neurotic cadaver skin   
and only managed to contradict you.
NaPoWriMo 2012 #5

This was very thrown together just to have something for the day! I apologize. :(
© 2012 - 2024 DearPoetry
Comments13
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betwixtthepages's avatar
Hi, hon!

I used the title of this beautiful poem in my own Title Poem for #TheTitlePage here:


Thank you so much! :heart: