you're no artisti'll paintyou're no artist by theshadowkissedgirl
my lips purple
to match the
stain you slathered
across my skin.
hey, this is
|You don't feel me in here, anymore.|
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I stayed up all night painting your face so
I could beat the birds to crying your name
and the world would shudder and shake in two syllables
once the first glitters of dawn skittered across the horizon
and skipped across the tips of your blindfold eyelids;
I stayed up all night losing my sanity so
I could on auto-pilot put my body to work
and my hands would find a natural rhythm
in the swoop and crash of heat transfer
bobbing up and down in the waves of your skin;
I stayed up all night dancing so
I could prance through the doors of your dreams
and I would step and spin without your guidance
until your eyelashes fluttered awake with pride singing
and our distance would hum along with the song and close in;
I stayed up all night lighting fireworks so
I could pretend I was a sailor lost at sea
and you would find me shipwrecked at the shore
tame my soul's raging waves before the day could break
and giggle the whole way back to your lighthouse escape;
I stayed up all night writing these verses so
I could capture the firefly words to speak when your lips
first parted with the adieu of a yawn
and my tongue would sprinkle across them all
the te quiero's and ich liebe dich's my heart has been choking on.
Pieces of me are scattered across the city,
sleeping on storm drains, kissing their feet,
but I am unseen.
I giggle, "Hey, look. Those are my initials."
I point and recite, "M. E. S."
and the rise of his brow
whispers that he will never
be able to strip the memory of me
from these streets.
I smile and we take a step
Rain drips down the drain
and washes away my footprints
but my initials remain.
I am gone.
ChocolateI have nothing to do todayChocolate by LoveShotEyes
besides sweeten myself.
I slip into the bath like it is chocolate,
lather myself in its candied incandescence
and practice the slow, soft swell of melting
so, when the door awakes with you and your arms
too laden with work for love, I can lay myself
in pre-snapped segments before you
as though my only occupation is to be
unpeeled and eaten by your starving hands.
Breatheour first breaths together wereBreathe by Mercury-the-Queen
like the movement of that caterpillar
you put on my sleeve
when it reared up and questioned
the placement of its feet.
we found our footing in
broken flower pots and
little red wagons.
the summer air became a blanket
that kept us warm through winter
and the early days of spring.
i found myself
staring absent-mindedly at the sun.
our laughter began to
permeate every conversation,
then the weather became funny,
and so did our lives,
and we ended up throwing them out
with the garbage
and laughing at the man who took them away.
we had everything and nothing
all at once.
and then our eyes grew heavy with
and our nights began to
and our storylines began
to share a common theme.
and the paint peeled off of our little red wagons,
and our flowerpots cut our feet
when we tried to run away.
and our last breaths together
were sharp and biting,
like the slice of our ice skates
on the thin layer of our dreams.