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Showing posts from December, 2017

Dark December | poem

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the memory

I miss the shadows that spin past eyelids, onto the floor,
and legs sprouting like leaves from blanketed branches.

I miss feeling your wounds heal under my mouth. I miss the coils of coalish petals you left on my pillowcase.

I miss the unseen grins, minutes before sunrise. I miss sleep talk, on and off, biological alarms that sang me awake. I miss limbs against limbs, the art of the sleepless, and the blinking bruises of morning.

the lament

It’s Hell to wash the mess, to pick apart clinging wire, to accept that my body

two flames | poem

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Woke up with your teeth lodged in my shoulder and wondered if my aura sticks to the roof of your mouth - azure wax spilling down lips and organs, between
joints and nerves. My mind is a charred wick,
crumbling.

Woke up with flakes of ash on my sleeve, exhausted from thinking
deeper than I can breathe. My body is wax, hardening
to your shape. But when the flame falls, smoke spurts
like blood

and I crack.