you are a vase and you are pouring yourself into the arms of someone years away and i am watching you and i am another vase and i am keeping all myself inside of me for a far off day.
you can message me with anything: questions, review requests, rants are you a green room knight yet? have you read this week's Squills?
Can you imagine how to feel your mouth move, warm and soft, without sound attached? I do not know where my love breathes, eats or sleeps, just that when his mouth moves, my words come out.
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
my mother locked the doors and changed the key while i was away - medicinal recreational pardonable - i latched my key and turned the sound of breaking my metal and hers together so permanently left the mashed entrance to itself and left myself to myself on the way out of the garden she said - see that you don't back here again punctuated by the backdrop car pop that regulates city temperatures. tomorrow we will try again
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
I don't know what to say when things go wrong, like they have today, and yesterday, and beyond. My lips are chapped with sorry I didn't say, and won't because insincerity is worse. Isn't it?
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
Smooth silk ties wind gently to her ankles, sewn into the soft slippers. I watch the slow dance and turn and leap and imagine her grown, gliding across stages, their audiences, their hearts. When the ties fray, losing tension and shine, we buy more. Every week a new pair of block slippers, throwing the curved, stained shoes out like so much shame, all for one more dance. breaking her toes in the shape of birds.
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
I gave up poetry when my hands were tired, thin from all work and no play, the callous of pen and key still hard and shapeless; a deformation of character. Slept for days, mumbling curses in cursive, fingers cramped and clutched to my sides. The withdrawal hit hard and fast; thick pulse at my neck beating so it hurt hot and sharp to my collarbone. I spoke in riddles and kissed walls, touched hair that shone or was damp, crushed cans under my bare heel just to know what it felt like, and how the blood spread thin into the creases of my body. When finally I held my breath so long my spots became darkness, I pressed pen to page and gutted myself into being.
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
today i straightened my usual curls just to peeve a cynic.
of course, my spite was thwarted by "torrential winds" - goes to show you what happens when i rebel against the grain.
a boy told me once that i looked good in the wind, and today i decided to use that line in a novel someday.
and then, i wondered, what if the wind grew to such an intensity that it flung vehicles onto the roof of my school gym?
"oh, wait, that's called a tornado, idiot."
"My hobbies include editing my life story, hiding behind metaphors, and trying to convince my shadows that I am someone worth following." - Rudy Francisco
“Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.
I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.” — Richard Siken
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