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sheep-wool covered lies.i ate your heart and reveled in the way it smashed between my molars like ripe grapes, the way i could feel the pulse beating between my clenched jaw, the life squirming in and out to stain my lips. i swallowed it whole and felt it beating like a drummer boy in the pit of my belly, your sorrow the beat i danced my day to. your misery was a lullaby i sang to myself at night, the sheep i counted when my eyes were closed. i could feel it in the way it seeped into my veins and tangled around my bones like weeds growing too fast to contain. i gloried in the power it gave me, the way i could pull your strings and make you dance, the way i could blo
you are my prayer.we are holding hands racing from burning homes.

we are coughing as the walls melt like wax and the floor ignites and we're spitting up smoke in puffs of disbelief and horror. your palms are bleeding crescent moon wedges all over the sweat-slicked car door and i'm curled like an autumn leaf on your lap, my spine cracking like tennis shoes pressing down on fall. we're watching bombs detonate under our bare feet and wincing as the sparks crackle along the dry flesh. we're bleeding sweat, tension racing like split electrical wires in our veins. you call my name and i cry out and birds are dying around us and the ground is splitting open and when
irreplaceable.Some things in life cannot be replaced.

This is the hymn beating within the pulses of those who mourn the shooting stars who have come and gone, who cling to the stardust of comets too hot to tie to this earth of dust and soil. This is the song lilies hum when dusk falls and the ground moves from the thrumming of a hundred pleading hearts in unison; what wheat fields cry out when absences are apparent and desperate mouths are praying into pillows late at night. This is the truth that is realized when mornings shot golden with sunlight do not pluck the beauty of dreams back into reality, but rather face the hollow space once occupied with lif
bleeding ink-throats_c.I'm forgetting how to pump these rotting thoughts through my grasping, skeletal fingertips. I'm a well run dry and the only thing left is the bucket at my feet, cracked and aging; blank, broken pages with nothing left to say. And all my body's wishing for is a way to spell the words that will write you back into my arms. Because you're a thousand miles and a million wishes away and I'm starting to believe I've just got no words left to say.

I am bleeding syllables and pulling phrases from between my teeth, but they're broken and empty. I know if I breathe my poisoned sorrow into your mouth, your lips will dry and your flesh will crack and th
burn the paper-lanterns.press tinder-lips to my flesh; spark forest fires where i'm too cold to remember the history of heat in molting books. trap us in glass jars of the moment so we might be studied later. keep us caged until the kerosene we're sweating is carbonated and pushing against the lid. burn us with wants, sear us with desires, leave our incinerating paper-flesh curling inward in protest. brand the side of my neck, shift and claim and hold until philosophy is no longer a thing that we read, but rather the second we remember to breathe.

pry open my mind to the gaping night, but make me close my hungry eyes. take the stars out of the sky one-by-one and pl
the art of waiting.goodnight moon, sing sweetly to me tonight. the curtains are drawn and your light is spilling under heavy cotton. i am lying with the windows open, and the shutters are drawn. the world is revolving around me and i am not moving an inch. i am still. i am the pinnacle upon which everything turns. with every breath i fear avalanches of mountains upon unsuspecting villages. you are too far away. i can't feel you, but i see you illuminating wooden floors. sleep hides from me in the back corner of abandoned closets. i am a statue and my heart is breaking down the concrete in my palms. i am fearless, yet i am carved from fear itself.

i am asleep i
you whisper my name.morning birds flock
to the window and we
are two prayers encased
in cotton sheets: pale,
freckled limbs tangled
like the dawning willow.

(bom dia bonito)

you whisper my name
into the peachfuzz curve
at the base of my neck.

(mi corazon)

you whisper my name
in the goosebumped flesh
in the valley of my navel.

(ma chérie)

you whisper my name
into the meeting arrows
of angel blades

(amore mio)

you whisper without a sound
as we sink deeper, you murmer
with anchored lips and stilled
tongue and your voice is a river
as we inch towards cherry
wood headboards.

(du är kärleken i mitt liv)

i am drunk off
show me the meaning.staple my eyes closed and promise me that's the best way to see.

press your mouth to mine and breathe poison down my throat, bite my tongue until the blood is dripdripdripping a steady path down to my waiting lungs. backhand me when i choke, call me ungrateful when i try to cough it up again. rip reality from behind my lungs and tell me not to bother with it, tell me i'm mistaken and the world is a lie and the only map i'll ever be able to trust is the rotting directions spewing forth from your gilded tongue.

ignore me when i question. get angry when i keep pushing. shove me into the wall and pull the moral fibers from my heart until i forg
chronophobia_c.the sky is dark and the ground is falling and you're holding my hand and asking me why my nerves are trembling in the middle of my palms. you're wondering at the quakes in my lips and the tsunamis breaking on the edges of my fingernails as they rack against your skeleton. you're pressing the curling edges of my pages together, straightening the spine of my molting book as i do my best to unravel at your feet. you're holding me close and whispering into my neck, asking me why i am afraid. asking me why i tremble and jerk like a bass caught on a line. asking me why the sun is reflected and lost in the whites of my anxious eyes. and my answer wi
no more sailing_cThe sun is setting and something in the way the light is haloing the horizon makes me think of the forest green rimming the caramel of your eyes. I sit and pluck beach grass as I watch the tips of the sails in the distance flare moments before the darkness claims them. I imagine the same night coming to steal and curl in your lungs. I imagine it bringing restful peace as you breathe in the tiny golden dust particles that swirled around my palms earlier today while at market. I imagine the light that brushed your cheekbones yesterday is slipping under my tongue as I stretch awake. I imagine we're tied together at the spinal cord and expanded o
as i cry sanctuary.the world is ending; i am borne in the bloodshed. i am stretching awake from the locked arms of the corpses, the froth of the raging sea dripping from the ends of my hair. i am naming myself death and sleeping in graves, molding sprawling metropolitan dreams from the loose sand behind the tombstones. the timeline of my hourglass is a snake swallowing its own tail. i am infinite; in this finite world, i am nothing. i watch the maddeningly swirling chaos of human destruction below the soles of my feet without a shudder. i touch the mirror and see wormholes in space. i press frayed emotion against the base of my skull and pray to science in the
life lessons in death.i didn't know what pain was.

pain isn't sitting in your room with the music blasting and the world going in slow motion, because your heart's been metaphorically ripped to shreds and society doesn't understand you and your clothes don't fit [in] and your tongue has unraveled and you're too tired to try and pick it up again.

pain isn't watching your friend walk away and your dog lie under the sheets of autumn leaves and throwing your moth-eaten book into the cardboard box next to him, because if you're going to lose one friend then you might as well lose them all and your arms are sore and your chest hurts, but night is coming and somehow yo
one more step.it's nights like this that make me wish i could gnash mountains between my teeth and drain the stars from the sky. it's nights like this that leave my limbs cold and my hands crackling so i'm on the floor trying to pick up all the pieces littered in the corners. theoretically, if i decompose, i'll find a way to compose myself before morning, but such a composition would never be music to the bleeding composite tongue binding around me.

[i'm wailing on the airwaves, trying find the right frequency, but it's hard to hear my thoughts around all the static.]

the wind is too cold for june and my heart is too frosted for the heat of this love cha
strangle me silently.i am sleeping and nameless faces are looming and my bones are breaking to the beat of war drums in the fogging distance. my pulse is racing and bursting at the seams and i am arching up and out and all over the ceiling and splattering on the window. "it's art!" they cry, because art is pain and i am paint running down the walls, the shattered column of my torso twisting on roping cotton sheets. "how beautiful," they sigh with wistful voices for i am destruction, and they envy the magnificence to sacrifice one's self for art, for beauty, for love, but i am a stain they can't wash out and a puzzle they can't complete, and the walls are decaying
the sun isn't a candle.you never did learn that beauty can't be painted on rotting ship hulls. decaying wood will always smell like the ocean's betrayal and the salted funeral salute of gilded words. swirling acrylics will only mask the bleak gray and bled-dry sinkhole of your chest. so, you can sit there and call yourself the queen of your world, the mistress of mystery and empress of lust, but you're taking on water and sinking fast and the imploding sea around you is the last grave your cat-eyes will ever witness. you're sinking like a stone in your hate and deception and the one hand that would have pulled you back is the one you gnawed off at the wrist.

you s
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i trust you to know.if i could crack my ribs apart at the sternum, i’d let you dip your fingers beneath the bleached bones.

there isn’t anyone else i’d trust enough to not be impatient. there isn’t anyone else i’d trust to not simply cut through the brittle, snarled vines encasing my heart. but i trust you. i trust you to see that the vines need to be unwound layer by layer. i trust you to see that to cut to the quick would only bleed me out. i trust you to know that i can’t bear to stain the carpet yet again.

i trust you to see that the thorns are embedded deep, the insecurities tangled with the nervous laughs, that i’m biti
this might be foolish.forty-nine hours ago: we were pressing fingers together through frosted windowpanes, laughing at our reflections and sticking out tongues through frost-bitten teeth. we were gently whispering through the snow to kiss the glass, the intimacy of our own breath steaming down our throats never able to take the place of what we imagine it’d be like to breathe each other’s carbon dioxide.

thirty-five hours ago: we were running down fields clutching dandelions between our fingers, throwing our heads back to expose our neck to the whipping wind and trusting it not cut the slender expanse of it. we were tumbling down the grassy knolls and l
gamble on me.hey boy,

i think you should know that you’re twisting my spine into knots and clogging up my arteries and the least you could do is give me a second of your time. i think you should give me a chance. you should know that you make my hands itch when you smile because i want to brush my thumb over your cheekbones. that my shoulders are trembling because i can imagine them resting against your chest, the idea of the warmth shotgunning straight to my nerves.

i think you should know you’re making a relatively sane girl misplace her mind.

and i know you’re so much more than you’ll ever imagine, that you are making me tangle w
my thoughts are fear biters.my heart is too wild
for me to cage it in a
meaningful haiku.
when i say it isn't personal.and if it’s cold in the middle of the night, you can trust me to burn the building down.

if the walls are too tall and the secrets too thick. if you can’t breathe past the black souls twisted around ash-lungs then follow me. trust me to start a riot. because we are more than they can handle, because we are smoldering indecently, we are young and heroic and flawed and angry. because we are bleeding hands tearing down doors, we are throwing fists against impassive chests.

we are feeling too much while they aren’t feeling enough.
and you better believe me: we’re going to revolt.

and if they try to stop us, we will hurdle

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intercontinental.

:iconcorina90:

when the world is quiet and the dawn is breaking, it's your hands that i'm taking. the world is caught in the moment our lips part, a dreamcatcher hung from the eyelashes resting like moons on our cheeks. we are capturing the globe in the spaces between our teeth and exchanging it on twisting tongues, tasting the continents on individual tastebuds. when we kiss, european flavors are mingling with asian accents and south american highlights; our mouths together are a world market of billowing fabric and exotic flavor that we could spend all afternoon exploring.  

we are breathing in spice and the heady scent of bazaars and when we close our eyes, i imagine the trail down your ribbed torso is the journey to jerusalem. i taste the desert in the curls of your hair and the heat of your mouth is a sauna baking passion into smoldering fires. your fingers are an oasis painting the red sea along my throat, drawing the treacherous coastline across the flesh of my hips.

i can feel the wind in the way you whisper my name, the way our legs tangling like the branches of jungle trees. we are the earth and life is sprouting from the soil of our flesh in the way of shaking forests and serene meadows. i know beauty from the way my heart blossoms in my chest to bleed red against my breast. i know beauty from the way my flesh peels back and fear dissolves and evaporates into the storm clouds above our bed. i know truth in the naked emotion rimming your eyes and the way your drawing breath sounds like harps on midsummer's eve.

i can feel you pulling the saltwater from my lungs, and the depth i've been fighting suddenly been siphoned with the ease of the wave of your fingertips. i can feel you pouring identity back into my lungs like a pitcher into an empty vase, firing the torches around the borders of my mind to keep the howling demons at bay. you bring me close and hold me together with the calloused width of your palms. you kiss the hollow of my neck and whisper my name and in the pause of the words birthing in your bloodstream to dripping from your lips, i find exactly what i am looking for.
:iconcorina90:
{"and when we're in the dark
it echoes in your heart
and when you're far away
it beckons me to stay"
--marina and the diamonds

i l-l-love you, *tramirez89
i still haven't found the words to show it yet
but i'm trying.
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:iconlivingdawn812:
~livingdawn812 Aug 15, 2010
You've got the best talent at describing the way you feel within moments.
Reply
:iconkj-illustration:
*KJ-Illustration Aug 13, 2010  Professional Digital Artist
Oh my... so stunning! the imagery is incredible... just plain w o w :heart:
Reply
:iconleaving-my-mark:
~Leaving-My-Mark Aug 7, 2010  Student Writer
This is beautiful! I love the descriptions!
Reply
:icondani-the-naiad:
~Dani-the-Naiad Aug 7, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
:love: I love the description of a kiss here - so beautiful!
Reply
:iconshay-kate:
~Shay-Kate Jul 31, 2010  Student General Artist
this is unbelievable.
your words are gorgeous.
Reply
:iconmeghamuffin22:
~meghamuffin22 Jul 30, 2010
this is most amazing love. :heart: one of the most passionate things ive ever read :love::love::love:
Reply
:iconstoryofmylife054:
~storyofmylife054 Jul 30, 2010
Stunningly beautiful, love.
You always leave me breathless. :heart:
Reply
:iconsaphire456213:
~saphire456213 Jul 30, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
love.. just love.
Reply
:iconperidot-magelette:
Mood: Love ~peridot-magelette Jul 29, 2010
and so you come full circle from 'i keep looking'.... ["i find exactly what i am looking for."]

this is.... beyond words of praise. it's just bloody beautiful. absolutely poignant, sweet, loving, lovely. megan, you have done it again!

"when the world is quiet and the dawn is breaking, it's your hands that i'm taking.

i imagine the trail down your ribbed torso is the journey to jerusalem. your fingers are ... drawing the treacherous coastline across the flesh of my hips.

i know truth in the naked emotion rimming your eyes.

you kiss the hollow of my neck and whisper my name and in the pause of the words birthing in your bloodstream to dripping from your lips, i find exactly what i am looking for."
Reply
:iconkayanya:
~Kayanya Jul 28, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
the world is the biggest stage, set for the biggest, most beautiful play :)
sadly I'm just a spectator right now, want to be back on stage again ...
haha you made me think in weird images!
Reply
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