you've been dead for a year, my dear by littleblueraccoon, literature
Literature
you've been dead for a year, my dear
i met you on december 21st,
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank int
I call them fragments, the parts of me that were too exhausted to stay. He calls them flecks because I am a flake. I wish I was a flake. It sounds prettier than being a fragment. Flakes are like snow. Soothing, falling from the sky on the tip of his tongue that melt and disappear. Fragments are archeological findings of a scarred past we really should not remember.
I want to remember my scars. So I am a fragment.
-
I draw on my legs. When my skin dries out, I use my index finger as a pencil and draw what the clouds are trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a dog, and sometimes it’s a bear and sometimes it is his face looking at me
Converse Minds - SLAM poem by LAPoetry-n-Photo, literature
Literature
Converse Minds - SLAM poem
I am from her womb
And yet sometimes I do not feel like I am her child
The things we don’t say, can’t say
The things we meant, the messages we silently sent
And vocally
Her words pulsing on the air, ringing in my ears
Her brutality baffling my mind, permeating my tears
Everything she doesn’t understand, doesn’t even try to
But I guess I forgot, she’s in command
I’m wise, I’m right, I’M a good person, she shouts
Oh, and obviously I’m a terrible nuisance, a pest?
Why, because I don’t drink up your every word?
Because I challenge you to actually think?
Maybe you don’t
Remember that time?
The birds sung for you and me; forever free, playing loves complex melody.
Remember that sound?
Of the whisper from my lips to your ears; forever near; and holding you.
You; the one so very dear to me.
Remember that observation?
Of how our hands could never find the right time to touch and intertwine.
We never got it right but its alright for the love was strong inside me and you who make two; like that horrible tasting industrial glue.
Remember how?
I was scared of making wrong and causing harm towards your heart that had been torn so many times apart.
But you