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Literature Text
sleep doesn't work as a cure or remedy
when 3am leaves you clutching at the dark
clambering for stability in your personal ocean.
and you are quartz so the inside
of your skin is lined with the interior
monologues of vaporized shellfish.
sure, you could have saved them. but how else
could we communicate, if not for this ocean
digesting us softly and churning us into one?
you exhale, or maybe it was a sigh
i cannot tell anymore with your constant
breaking waves and breaking bones.
and you can talk about death in such
elegant phrasings of crescent moons claiming
and guiding lost souls.
but you never were so good at telling me about
your own personal little deaths.
the littlest deaths, the ones that slip
through the spaces between your fingers
when you hold your safety net so close against you
and so tightly. if i can't get that close to you
i'll swing the moon around your shoulders
so that no one can. because nothing else
in the solar system could be so stark
and yet so quieting.
but oh god, i heard and saw
and watched your internal galaxy explode
with a resonating and
devastating aftermath.
if you wanted a beautiful destruction
you certainly got it
but i would have stitched your spiracles
back together while you slept.
when 3am leaves you clutching at the dark
clambering for stability in your personal ocean.
and you are quartz so the inside
of your skin is lined with the interior
monologues of vaporized shellfish.
sure, you could have saved them. but how else
could we communicate, if not for this ocean
digesting us softly and churning us into one?
you exhale, or maybe it was a sigh
i cannot tell anymore with your constant
breaking waves and breaking bones.
and you can talk about death in such
elegant phrasings of crescent moons claiming
and guiding lost souls.
but you never were so good at telling me about
your own personal little deaths.
the littlest deaths, the ones that slip
through the spaces between your fingers
when you hold your safety net so close against you
and so tightly. if i can't get that close to you
i'll swing the moon around your shoulders
so that no one can. because nothing else
in the solar system could be so stark
and yet so quieting.
but oh god, i heard and saw
and watched your internal galaxy explode
with a resonating and
devastating aftermath.
if you wanted a beautiful destruction
you certainly got it
but i would have stitched your spiracles
back together while you slept.
Literature
softened
the sky whispers,
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.
Literature
why stars don't sleep
& stars they never sleep
cradled in the gentle limbs of the moon
the sky in ocean's blood
how they love their dawn
never wake to twilight nights
breathe life into mountains
caress sky's limit
& painting life in yellow dots
falling out soundlessly.
Literature
settle
on these nights
i seemed to bleed
something beautiful
atop of blue bird's
bones.
breathing
breaths
of
frost
lashes.
stars settling
in
eyes of spring,
budding blooms
and
sure-shell things
but heart cries
for blossoms
the fall of gentle
white
rough my bones
in winter's chill-
where my
heart
used to be
so
s t i l l
.
.
.
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© 2013 - 2024 ohsparrowsong
Comments11
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oh my gosh this gorgeous, stacie love! Well done, you two!