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Literature Text
Your memory
will betray you -
you'll forget that you always wear
your heart on your sleeve
like you're waiting for someone
to come around and fix it -
I am fated to keep all of you
locked inside me,
filling up my featherweight soul.
If I could call you a beach
you would be empty of all things
beautiful,
left only with
sand
(You'll never get fixed
if you hide that you're broken)
will betray you -
you'll forget that you always wear
your heart on your sleeve
like you're waiting for someone
to come around and fix it -
I am fated to keep all of you
locked inside me,
filling up my featherweight soul.
If I could call you a beach
you would be empty of all things
beautiful,
left only with
sand
(You'll never get fixed
if you hide that you're broken)
Literature
Hollow
Here amidst the bones bleached white,
the echoes become trapped in ribcages
like a heartbeat.
But it’s just a sound.
No blood pumps through the
marrow thick like
baby’s breath-
flowers for someone who is sick or dying or
dead.
No light shines
under the skin and muscle.
How dark it must be for the
delicate, fleshy bits underneath.
The lungs don’t know when it’s time to
go. No moon to guide them.
How do they know when to
stop?
Does the heart even know the color
of blood?
Literature
Angstxiety
I am work weak on Wednesday
in a heap of hangover and hesitation
with fingers on a phone haptically
actively anticipating feedback—
I need that why do I need that.
My angst and anxiety
is constant and courses
and throbs with a pulse
that demands concern
of a baby boomer crooning poetic
in the distance to call me antisocial, or you know,
you could just call me.
If being this busy in an age
of constant communication
feels like having slept
but not feeling rested,
I'd rather cancel my plans
like a responsible millennial
and go to bed.
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Suggested Collections
hi sorry i'm going on an editing spree
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Prompt: featherweight
Day 2
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Prompt: featherweight
Day 2
© 2013 - 2024 forestmeetwildfire
Comments12
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Hello, I wanted to let you know I've used your lovely title in my newest Title Poem, 'your teeth leave different scars'. If you wanted to read it, the link is [link] - but this comment is really just to let you know how I've made use of your gorgeous title. 