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hope is youhope is
the jar placed on the top shelf
"in case of emergency,
i never open even on rainy days
instead i drop loose change inside
listening to the clink clink clink
as they drop through the tiny hole
i'll save them away
to go to the wishing well one day
the sound of your laughter
running through my brain
snagging on the rusty cogs and
making them work again
Saying Goodbyesi already miss you
even though you're still here next to me
i know you're lost to the winds
seven miles down the road you shout
and my heart it goes out
tonight the stars dance over my head
but i don't see them
clouded and blinded for a time
let the dawn come
maybe i'll breathe then
touch my skin in my memories
i repeat every single memory
i want to break apart all these wars
i want to destroy all those happy times
i want to break f
In YouThere's something about going to my knees before you, with tears in my eyes. There's something about knowing you'll wipe away the tears that fall quickly and you'll embrace me, pull me close to you and fold me into your warmth. To feel your fingers gently brushing away those little droplets, in an attempt to wipe away all of my pain and those hidden wounds.
I want to blubber away the pain I have folded up inside, hidden deep under my heart and I want to scream it all out. Instead, you press your lips softly against mine, stroke my hair and whisper, "It will all be ok, Kitten."
You have no idea, in those words, I see my entire life sharpen and focus. Murky becomes clear and you destroyed the darkness in which his words have left a stain on my heart and soul. You cleanse me, lay me wide open and when I beg for you to let me keep darkness inside of me, you tell me no softly and say that I am too beautiful to taint.
So, I silently beg you, to wrap your hands around my throat. Invade every
Beggari want to break down
destroy the happiness we fake
so you can see the cracks i've known for years
so you can finally understand that
we're two broken people trying
to piece together a life
and not feel lonely
i want to stitch my words into your rib cage
but leave the wound open so you can bleed into my hands
and swear on your breath that you truly loved me
but i won't hear those words
i [think] know the truth and
i know you don't
bound my wrists and i'll be your slave
one day i will tire and feel used up
tossed aside waiting for your heart
i'm the b
I Want YouI want you in my hands. I want to put my fingers around your throat, to hear you softly beg for release. I want to feel you desperate beneath you, squirming upwards against you. I want to feel your nails down my back; I want you to leave red marks that remind me of you when I look in the mirror later.
I want to hear you scream as you explode. I want to feel your body pulsating with mine, watch you fly to heaven and back down again. I want to mark your beautiful little throat you bare so lovingly. I gain pleasure watching you bare that love mark to the world.
I control your body. Don't deny me those smacks across your shapely ass or else. I control your body when I top you. Pin your wrists to the bed, to the walls. I control you. You will breathe when I say so. You'll come when I say so. Beg a bit harder, a bit louder. I might grant your wish.
Worthy"You are worthy of being loved. Do you see that person right there in front of you? Yes, you. You are worthy of being loved and appreciated by the person(s) you love and adore."
You give me life. You give me love and take the burden of my pain when I can no longer bear it on my shoulders. You hold me close and you do not whisper how much you love me. Instead, you cup my chin upwards and say it loudly, proudly. You do not hide away our love or deny it. You show me off to the entire world and say "Hey, look at this beautiful lady right here! This is my girl!" and have a grin that stretches for miles.
You always tell me that I must love myself. That I am beautiful, no matter if I am short and skinny or if I am curvaceous and have beautiful brown eyes that are so much more than just muddy. You trail your lips and tongue down every inch of skin and over ever scar I have carved into my flesh. You open me wide and feel me completely, making me gasp and beg and scream your name. You send me hi
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
Letters to the UnbornMy letters will never be received by you;
you will never be able to hold my hand within yours
nor feel the wind upon your cheeks
touch the reddest roses or
lie snuggled in my arms
you will never know my kisses-
placed upon chubby cheeks
I lost those moments when I let
someone tell me what to do with my body
whisper lies into my weakened ears
in the dead of night I swear that
I'll love him like I would have loved you
[I know he will never replace you]
because in my soul I feel it screaming
as if I have the blood of you on my hands
[but honestly, I do]
you are my darling angel
sent to heaven too early
for my mistake.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More