literature

boys with bird names cant actually fly.

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DearPoetry's avatar
By
Published:
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Literature Text



i fill my lungs with blackberries
& nicotine because it is the only way
I can stomach the taste.

a phoenix told me once
that he could teach me
how to burn properly,
as if scolding
had preferences

[ like the intercostal
 spaces of a ribcaged
 embrace.              ]

he fell in love
with my words
first,

before he knew
the height of my
cheekbones
or the annoying
sound of my laugh.

he said he could count
all my scars on one hand-

even the ones that wake me
at 3 am with an itch i swear
begs me to rip them open
again.

& i told him he could keep
his pretty words and fiery fingers
creatively away from me.

i am tired of smelling of hell
& ash when -
Comments49
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vagabondthoughts's avatar
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Technique
:star::star::star::star::star: Impact

This is a beautiful piece.
Enchanting.
To me, good poetry is like a blanket on a cold day: I want to wrap myself up in it and somehow there's never enough of it.

You parenthetical phrase was absolutely stunning, and I really related to your speaker, though I've never actually felt that way myself.
Blackberries and nicotine: genius. Poetic genius.

I would like to offer some advice on how to make this better, but there's not really that much I can say. The ending left me wanting more, but that happens will most good poems, so it's nothing new.

This is absolutely fantastic.