It was painted in the inky sky out my window, dotted among the white pricks of starlight like a code in the stillness, in the silence, in the cold, and you signed it with a feather.
Last edited by Stringbean on Wed Apr 07, 2021 11:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
These maples are still bare, just finding their tender red buds. The youngest branches are helpless in the wind, frail, jagged arms reaching up against a pale sky the soft color of a blue jay's breast.
I hear black starlings cawing in the distance like pallbearers. These branches will look different when you come back...
Last edited by Stringbean on Fri Apr 09, 2021 6:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
It seems like the earth has grown quiet... taken a day to wipe a cloth across the sky... press river-dyes of green up like a sponge into the grasses and teach the song-birds to give their lungs a rest. Today, the shadows of phone poles are as natural as the trees'. My mind is still and listening.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
Spring died before it came, so I set this vase on my windowsill-- blue hydrangeas made of paper. I promise the curtain's open to let the sunlight in, but sun is pale when it comes through glass, and all the spring is left behind. I'll sit here by the window and wait, until these paper petals bloom again.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
Today I heard an echo, a whisper that you might be there and my vision grew dark with fear that maybe the whisper had come from a wicked place; that it'd bounced off the walls and grew faint like a scream for help in the
distance...
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
There are worlds that I'd burn down when echoes pierce into reality. I want to see walls trapped in fire red as blood, and ash dripping to the ground never to rise again.
There are worlds I'd turn to cinders, and then fall in tears upon the grave of what flames can never give back to us.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
There's more to you than one flower. The bulb is deeper than its color, softer at its heart than all these petals, stronger than the thickest woody stems.
These maples are turning green, too tender; you have bloomed again from the ashes.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
I never thought I'd burn the world ...........................I almost lost you in the flames. Was it even me that struck the match? ...........................I'd never set a fire where you are. Some of them I hoped to burn. ...........................They set a fire in your skin. If this is karma, it's all-consuming ...........................Justice' arms are short for you. but that might be a little too much. ...........................Mine can never reach. This ash is in all the wrong places.
Last edited by Stringbean on Mon Jul 26, 2021 12:40 am, edited 2 times in total.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
Peanut butter sandwiches are for when the ash is high still lingering in the clouds, for a moment out of sight. For sitting in the grass in cool and mottled shade, you and me. For the calm before the fallout, because the storm has already passed, turned to ash-- and tomorrow it may be falling. Just another hour now, let's sit here in the shade, just you and me and our sandwiches.
Last edited by Stringbean on Mon Jul 26, 2021 12:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
If the ice grows thin and I'm out in the middle why should I believe that it won't crack? I know that others have gone in before. I know that thin ice cracks. And faith in a guiding hand isn't something I understand and can cling to, so rage caged inside me claws my heart for what I can't control.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
I don't understand giving in. I don't understand the pull to walk into the lion's jaws and throw another down its throat ahead of you. I don't understand burning and not spitting at your executioner even if spit won't put the fire out.
she/her/they acethetic and paronoid *waves leafy fronds*
You are going to love some of your characters because they are you, or some facet of you, and you are going to hate some characters for the same reason. — Anne Lamott
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