Settle your bones, love,
as you lay them next to mine.
Rest your weary body,
and let your muscles
pay their time.
Let my fingertips dance,
their way along your spine.
I am full with peace,
Let me give you what
SafeThis thing has existed within me
scratching, clawing, gnawing away on the inside
governing each aspect of my world
It writhes with fear and hunger
and it never stops
Until your touch sends stillness
deep into my core
I can orient myself around you
and see and hear and think
Your touch is clarity
Soul Burn: Surviving the Storm Like the wind and the thunder preceding the rain, it is his presence and his words that reach me before his hands. There are only seconds for me to register the wall of seething air before I am engulfed in pain.
"How dare you correct me in front of your father!" He rushes me from behind, but I am not surprised. It starts this way every time. His fingernails cut into my scalp, fingers ripping at my hair to force my head backwards. "This is what you deserve for straying from your place."
I twist under his hand to face him, breath pushed from my chest as I am slammed against the wall. I am cornered. And I am almost ashamed that it takes this little slice of hell for my faith in the Gods to surface. I pray, not to Karma, but to Justice, asking for this to end swiftly and to separate our legal joining. I pray, not to Death, but to Life, asking for her to create a new fate in which I can s
Soul Burn: Touch He’s inside my room, sitting down on my bed, his clothes softly brushing against the blankets. Though the door is shut, I can still hear voices murmuring in the hallway outside. A small ceramic bottle hangs lazily in his hand. He sips from it every so often, scowling as he swallows. From the scent wafting my way, I’d be scowling too. He lowers the bottle, tips his head, and peers at me from the corner of his eye. Steel gray, like the daggers he keeps attached to him. Shit. Pull your head out of your ass and focus.
"What did you want to talk about?" He takes another swig from the bottle.
"I need to know... Well the thing is, I just-" What is it about this man that turns me into a stuttering, shivering mess? I stare at the bottle in his hand as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Everything I’m trying to keep under control is bouncing about inside my he
Sleepless NightsAnd I can't sleep at night.
I refuse, the clenching in my gut
hoping to hold down the rising sun.
I am not ready.
I am not prepared.
I can no longer handle this.
Soul Burn: Accusation "Why? How could you marry him?" Gaia's anger contorts her face into a frown, but, just like her mother, it doesn't manage to mar her beautiful features. She stands before me feet planted firmly on the ground, hands clenched tight, leaning forward with her own question as if physically projecting it will force me to answer. "He's soulless, he's a killer! How could you bind yourself for life to a monster like him?"
"First of all, lose the tone and maybe we can actually have this conversation." I keep my hands busy preparing the food in front of me to refrain from turning around and grabbing her. This kitchen is usually a haven for me where I can relax and share food with my family. It takes most of my will to not smack the accusation off of her mouth. Naz wouldn't be too pleased if I hurt her darling daughter. "You are in my house. You will respect both me and my husband."
I hear her t
FearYou cannot tell me
There is nothing to fear
of the dark
When all I see in the shadows
is the multitude of my past sins
Cliche"I want to spend my life with you," is not a cliche.
I know you can feel it
in the goosebumps that rise
from my skin at your touch
Soul Burn: Differences They walked leisurely, an odd pairing, along the main street heading north of the city. Their voices pierced the air around them as they argued over what had started as a trivial matter. But it was dark, as the lamps lining the street did not cast much light, and so they walked hand in hand,their magic trying to over power the other as much as their words.
"But why doesn't your Kingdom celebrate birthdays?"
"Well, firstly, stop trying to give me frostbite and maybe I'll tell you. You're letting your magic intertwine with your emotions."
"Oh, please. Every time you're irritated I get another blister on my palm. Lead by example, o chosen one." Amanda tilted her head to look up at him, barely suppressing the grin on her face. Garrett raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern, and her laugh echoed against the buildings around them. "Maybe we should try it at the same
Soul Burn: Last Moments The bed hardly made a sound as she laid Garrett down atop the mattress. His paper thin body barely rustled the sheets, while her weight created valleys as she lowered herself down beside him. Their bedroom was silent, the air heavy; she could hear the rattling in his lungs with each breath he drew in.
"I'm not oblivious, Garrett. I knew that as soon as F'neir died your body would begin to deteriorate." Amanda reached up and cradled his face against her palm, her thumb stroking his cheek. "I just hoped the process would take time, a lot of time.
Garrett snorted. "Hey, get that sad look off your face. I could still kick someone's ass if I wanted to."
Amanda wrapped her arm around his chest. His ribs visibly pushed against his skin and scar tissue. She pulled herself into him, her lips fluttering down just below his collar bone. "Shush. You need to rest."
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
the world is brighter where
dregs of strangers' revels remain --
i keep this half-light for my own.
i'll stay until the wind sighs a scotch-and-smoke
cliché, til the Muscadet's slipped from the lip
of my wayward
hello.(i know you're there before you do.)
your night is told in
patchouli-pulse wanders; mine,
in whorls of liqueur-breath. come
close and i'll find the warp
through the weft, the trails telling tales
in synaesthesia --
Platinum Blonde's been 'round and gone.
(-- closer, find syllables strewn
in an exhale's wake; stolen from my throat-
ful of careless farewells, spin and sway
and beg you stay.)
time enough for a kiss-
and-never-tell, for a stumbling waltz
to the dissonance of crystal-shatter odes
to the summerlong i knew you --
we were(n't) meant for more than this.
morning goes right through you,
and breathes a thousand fortunes in-
to shards of (our) stranger starfall.
and when we kiss,
he says it
leaves him breathless,
is just two awkward kids
reminding each other to breathe,
that's all you need.
A Somber NightA Somber Night 1/1/07
The times we spent together weigh
heavily on my mind.
Red was your flowing dress
on our second date.
Yellow, the tulips I gave
you on our six month anniversary.
Our life before the incident is a blur.
Green was the grass we laid in
as we gazed at the brilliant stars all night.
What are you thinking now?
Are you thinking at all?
We were as one, our bodies intertwined.
Remember how we would interpret
the shining ones as our imaginations wandered?
I stayed up all night when you got sick.
When I view the stars now...
I die a little inside.
Black is the color I wear.
Blue is the feeling I am fighting.
You were the one I wanted to
drink coffee with every morning.
You left without explanation.
You left too soon.
Orange shined down on your tousled
hair at dawn - the waves remind of pain.
Yellow is the sunrise we can't share anymore.
I envision your last breath.
Anger engulfs my eyes with
The Silver stars never lie,
their light continues to shine,
You can't have it allbut you can have the glazed heat bursting from the blacktop like a broken
fire hydrant. You can have the jangle of keys
swinging from your hip with each stride.
You can have the tactility of leather and the graze of
bathroom mosaic tiles under a cold shower pelting
bullets and when the water cuts off
you can have dry book pages. You can have happiness,
though it will often be bitter, like finding a stranger’s
wallet full of pictures of smiling children until you
return it to find that the couple is barren.
You can have the scratches on the back of his knuckles,
faded, yet raw. You can have the translucency of sheets
in the sun, silhouettes but no details,
never revealing anything more than a fringe of hair
and frayed laces tripping over themselves.
You can drop obscenities like bombs until
they don’t mean anything anymore. You can pull out the Monopoly board
that broke your family. You can’t put it back together,
but you can pretend the thimble is your mother and the