the milky way puts to shame the boldest flicker of candle light
in every urban cathedral
it illuminates red-bleeding cedars and grey-silver beaches and beckons us
I was born with pine needles in the spaces between
lung and bleached bone
they prickle when the sun sets but the aroma calls so sweet—
I will never let them go
truth has never matched reason
and by the skin of my teeth
it never will
I couldn’t help but notice
the tiny worn cracks along the wooden table
where I sat eating homemade renditions
from a quite familiar chef (I like to call her mom)
As I slid my fingers across each one
I remembered the countless times
I sat at this particular table
How it must have bore heat
from numerous plates on numerous nights
How it must have felt clumsy spills and even tears
soaking into its deep surface of grain
I thought about euchre cards
sliding across its once pristine finish
and cigarette ashes dropping from careless lips
the beer rings from forgotten coasters
and liquid indents from mouths that missed
I suppose If this table could talk
it would tell about times I forgot to say “thank you”
or of my teenage years when it missed my presence
skipping a family meal for delinquent curfews
with those “friends” I don’t know anymore
Taking another bite from what seemed like
the millionth meal cooked by her hands
I noticed they were just as worn
Holding onto these very same memories
inside the cracks of the strongest woman
I have ever known
submitted by desayunogratis
I love him
drowning in the despair of desire
my soul on fire
for the taste of liquorish lips
feel of fingertips
spells of ecstatic insanity
lost in the beat of his art
the will of my heart
declaring distance not be defeat
destined, we shall meet
I think on thee
Submitted by spiritwind-studios
I’m the girl you hid in the tower,
No, I’m not much older.
I guess time doesn’t fly,
or when I ride,
it’s on a plane
with paper wings,
singed by the devil’s tongue,
or time flies,
but not high enough to reach me,
Yes, that seems right.
Your skin is leather-bound
and I know
less colloquialisms than
I can breathe off
the top of my fever dreams.
You don’t know this about me,
but I get night terrors.
You’re the only manly mind near me.
What is there to be scared of.
Plenty, down there.
I’m surprised you’re not
the color of a well-bleached sheet.
I should wrap you up,
drink to that,
and make you
the vision of what I’d thought you’d be.
So, let’s cut to
the rabbit chase.
I need rough meat in
but you look a little
too wilted to stomach
Am I coming with you?
Down the rope,
of course. It looks like
a noose from up here,
and the ground is black
as burnt cities,
but I suppose it looks
blacker up close.
Does what I suppose
Does it, though?
Who knows my name more,
you or me?
Will you send me
roses when I am
found shrouded in bottles?
Will you kiss my feet
when I find a way to escape?
Look, I just need a
way down. Yes,
Well, that’s that.
Looks like I’ll live
By the way,
can you promise?
Don’t remember me,
the next time you come back.
You can manage that.
(Why am I here, right?)
Or forget everything important.
I like red leaves
in the summertime,
and coffeeshops in the winter.
Remember that for me,
and please, please,
There is a certain kind of sadness which is addictive-
It is sweeter than ambrosia and
More potent than the strongest alcohol,
Without the promise of shuddering pain to follow.
This sadness is pure and undemanding;
It pulls you into lethargy and the soft embrace
Of clouds and stars and sheep
And you can swear to take only one sip,
But it will grow on you,
For it gives all else the illusion of bitterness.
One a year, one a month, one a day,
One an hour, every minute, every second.
There is no escape.
And it will engulf you completely and you will drown
Within its clutches and never know the
Warmth of the sun upon your bare shoulders;
Or the love she is sending you;
Or the love he is hiding from you;
And you will sleep your uneasy sleep and
Dream restless dreams of happiness and loss.
so simple. so brilliant.
i tried to write about your eyes
but i ran out of cliches
i tried to say you plainly
but there wasn’t enough truth
whoever invented this language
didn’t anticipate you
Let me show my scars
but hey, you’re not allowed to touch them
one step at a time, remember?