I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
I feel a shiver of you
in my bones,
like the kiss of a half-moon
or the murmur of thunder
in your eyes. Love is only a shadow
of what we could have been
because I cave inward
at the sight of you,
buckling under the weight
of the empty space between us
here is the truth about skin and bones by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
here is the truth about skin and bones
zip me from belly to sternum
so I stand straight as steel
as I wander from room to room,
half-asleep in a white hot dream.
if I mourned for dusk
would the sky howl for me?
the floor shakes deep in my ribs
each one a lightning rod
to thaw me like frozen meat.
you were a kiss unseen,
a whiff behind closed eyes
of musty spiced wine
and the fingerprints
you left on my spine
walls, boxes and doors by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
walls, boxes and doors
you throw things at the wall
to see what sticks
hurl them with precision and watch
as each clatters to the floor
blink behind glasses like
in chemistry class
over and over
as i stand aside and say, not me -
words that slide over brick to sit
congealed you toss your two cents
that splatter like a slap in the face
and now i can fit into the box
that you call woman
it feels like
trying to keep my stomach
from climbing out of my throat
and flopping to the floor
(now my insides lie wet
and cold between us)
while I clutch my empty torso
and I can't breathe because
I go to sleep and no one is there,
because you reached into my chest
and pulled out my lungs and threw
them away
(I search every trashcan
you might have touched
but I can't find them,
I still can't find them)
so I cover my eyes and pretend
you're not just an inch out of reach
your shadow has detached itself
and climbed into me
but i still look for you over sharp shoulders
and around corners, between
pairs of eyes that linger too long
and in the curve of anonymous hands,
you seem to follow me everywhere
without being there at all
(and i'm just holding out for the sun)
chest to chest
you unfold grey
matter wrinkles
crinkled as the
bed sheets
between clenched
fists, fingers pressed
on red lips you breathe
in smoke and
synapses fire
life is for living by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
life is for living
what if i ran away,
got swallowed by the sea?
the world has turned upside down,
a midnight up in flames.
before i lose daylight,
pour me into postcards
from far away -
death and all his friends
are easy to please
but gravity hurts like
heaven
i want you like i want
skinny thighs under long skirts
and coffees with names
i can't remember but
still all taste the same,
i want you slow
and lazy with your ugliest
hair and morning
breath, sticky from
the sweat of sleepy sex,
all of your secrets
and non-secrets,
the lanyard bracelets
and polaroids from 2002.
i want you here or not
here, open and
mine
i.
death is a shadow
and i feel him,
some days more than
others.
ii.
we first met on a
sunny day in january.
he covered my tiny fist
inside his and squeezed
it like an apology, and
i began to cry.
i have seen his
silhouette every day
since.
iii.
he is always on the
flip side of light –
always sharper
where the sun shines
fierce.
(sometimes i can only
face the bright side
because i know he has
my back.)
iv.
i write him letters.
sometimes they are
stories. sometimes
they are odes. but
most of the time, they
are just
conversations, that
we have.
(“i was thinking
about you.”)
v.
death is
We went work-weary, whisper-wrecked,
skin dripping like acid off our necks
– grit, and sweat – our white, pockmarked
sun hanging low in the sky. Stark
even against the dark blue,
silhouetted peaks rose looming
in the distance like a grotesque row of saluting
soldiers. We trembled at the view
with the cold familiarity of mutts
caught too often looting in back alleys,
the whiplash certainty in our soured guts
of being casualties.
We went, our feet as compasses
pointing to "far" and "away", the twisted specter
of the firing squad always over our shoulder,
blurring our sight. We left a trail of ashes
and blistered hope. We l
she strings her bones tightly when the wild hunt comes,
constellations of wolfteeth staccato against her skin.
midnight beckons until she can be still no longer; she runs,
leaps skywards, misty feet skimming smoke and threads of
stormcloud, arrow-arcing up and up until the horizon breaks
beneath her with a clap of thunder and above the aurora is
blooming. celestial goddess-not-girl perched on the rim of
heaven, the music of the spheres calls the planets to
orbit and she waxes timeless amid stars and satellites,
dancing a saturnalia with venus, whirling to the immortal
moonspun madness of the universe and tonight
all the world below
once your scales
fall away you are
bare and translucent;
your spine,
visible through the
film of your skin.
there is strength,
in this –
there is strength
in many unusual things.
on gardening or growing up at 22 by successwithhonor, literature
Literature
on gardening or growing up at 22
and say the future is just like the fog, rolling in thick & heavy
from the forest of friends in front of you. see, some found love,
others death, all of us lost in our own ways, awaiting dawn
in whatever form it will come— fluorescent & fleeting.
and say, aren’t we all just budding things, thinly rooted & full of potential,
reaching out for the light or withering away to feed the hungry earth below?
for what is the world but a greenhouse, hot & steamy in its apathy for our survival?
and what is a greenhouse but a bell jar of blooming things, or bodies?
be it autumn when the leaves fall or may when we bury them,
this harvest la
with the amount of sugar in my diet
one might think i'd be too sweet
to still be this bitter
well i hate to break it to you but
there is an unpleasant taste on my lips
so it's probably for the best
that we never kissed
TARtrazine + Feathers by ChloroformBoy, literature
Literature
TARtrazine + Feathers
i am a black portrait in a golden frame,
a black swan posing as a golden goose;
this heart of gold is a fraud in my chest
just black tar dipped in yellow paint.
cosmetic graffiti
stains my soul a
splintered onyx,
a reverse midas,
on my throne of
gilded charcoal;
i’m just another shadow puppet
caught in a xanthic masquerade,
waiting for the dye to wash away.
In the dark blaze of night, my anger coils beside me like a cat, and I can feel myself maybe finally letting go, why am I here, still, after all this time, and the cut of your smirk still loosens these jagged little pieces of love and you're looking at me like you know I'm broken and you want to fix me, but that's not possible because you. broke. me. We're talking and we're laughing and I can feel my anger subsiding, shrugging and slinking away to go curl up on the top of the refrigerator where I can't get it, a soft purr vibrating. We're laughing and we're walking to your bedroom and we're kissing, deep and tender, and I just want to tuck my
I agonize and dream I use my claws
To rake them down your spine & ride you slow
The humid slick is running down the walls
The night is thick with nowhere else to go
To rake them down your spine & ride you slow
As lightning shakes the thunder from the sky
The night is thick with nowhere else to go
Each tremor taking us before they die
As lightning shakes the thunder from the sky
Denying us the rain that comes alone
Each tremor taking us before they die
That soon will bring a deluge of our own
Denying us the rain that comes alone
While lovers steal the moment from within
That soon will bring a deluge of our own
And jo
telephones and cortisone by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
telephones and cortisone
Puerto Rico is still asleep
while we starfish aimlessly in the sea -
We are like lost men seeking shelter
in a place where the sweating sun
is forever at high noon,
ceiling fans turning slowly
and dewy drops on upper lips.
I am the skinny girl in an indie movie
who lounges around in her underwear,
a cigarette dangling limper than dirty hair.
A phone rings somewhere.
I am grasping at a dream
like I am drowning and watching
the surface float away, falling
so deep into sleep that
the stars seem to sing.
as small as a world and as large as alone by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
as small as a world and as large as alone
it's always ourselves we find in the sea,
she reminds me, eyes lingering on the cerulean ocean
stretching and sighing before us,
glowing vermillion in the setting sun.
we sit until the tide is sloshing at our feet,
threatening to carry us away on a dreamlike raft
of smooth turtle shells. we take cover, shrieking
like children, kicking up sand in a feeble attempt to
stop our pursuer from closing in on us.
laughing breathlessly, uncontrollably, hands pressed
against our chests and eyes beaming with unshed tears,
we are careening up and across sand dunes (though the tide
is far behind us) until our calves are wobbly strands of seaweed,
good fo
when you start to think you are
broken,
think instead
that you are
fragile pottery knocked over
and shattered
but then repaired
with careful hands
and liquid gold
to fill up all the cracks;
think that you are not damaged
but filled with gold,
because something that has
suffered
but survived
is all the more beautiful
my subconscious is a continent, my bones
the aching tectonic plates of the earth
rubbing raw against yours. take me deep
into the technicolor canvas of your mind,
paint my body with the soft brush
of your lips. find all
my creases and crooks and pry me
open quietly, let my spine crack
open like an old book. take me
out to watch the stars
and we'll feel our worry melting
away. nothing is more clear
than breath swirling into fog, pink cheeks
and shy smiles.
If you don't post a journal after getting a DD, did you really get one?
Just kidding. But really, this was such a surprise. Especially on a poem I made in about 30 seconds while browsing a gameboard store with some friends who were visiting. But who am I to complain?
Life outside the internet has been interesting. I've started my PhD now so I think my sleep quality is going to plummet soon. I'm writing a bit here and there but I don't think I'm ever going to get back to that place where I posted like five poems a week. I think we're lucky to get one a month how are you guys?
Hi to my new watchers :wave: who are you? let's be friends!
Well, it's nice to be back. I had a whopping 5,284 things in my inbox which I promptly deleted and waited patiently for new things to come in... and they didn't? It's been a whole day and there are only 6 deviations and that's just weird. I guess everyone's ditched this place / on vacation / both.
So, please recommend to me a writer (poet) that you've recently discovered or has recently joined dA, cause I have nothing to read and I want to check out some new writers.
also tell me what you've been up to :la:
WritersInk (https://www.deviantart.com/writersink) recently had an amazing contest with the theme "Moral of the Story", so I present to you the fabulous winners!
First Place
Second Place
Third Place
While on the subject of WritersInk (https://www.deviantart.com/writersink), they're in need of a new gallery mod (cause I'm leaving them :noes:) so if you think you might be interested, send C-A-Harland (https://www.deviantart.com/c-a-harland) a note! I've been with them for almost two years (I think?) and they are really one of the best literature groups on dA. You can't go wrong.
Hope you're all doing well :aww: