the truth never killedby ~Corina90and that’s when i looked you in the eye and told you that i am a dead end. i am the girl they hold in the middle of the night, i am the blindkisses and desperatetouches. i am the oh-honey-you-taste-so-good, the shh-be-quiet-i-didn’t-come-to-hear-you-talk. i am lost and falling, i am looking at the pieces without seeing the whole because the whole picture scars. and i am living without skin, living without skin so even the air burns. |
| Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse | ©2009-2012 ~Corina90 |
i really do believe it. Maybe I will write something sweet.i really do believe it. by ~Corina90
Maybe I will kiss your slumbering mouth, touch tongue to lip and sing of the taste of honey. It would be light as air – cotton sheets and bare feet. It would be nectar to aching tongues and water to the disbelieving. I would spin sugar into words and paint meadows on naked chests. I would dip my fingers into wading pools of hope and wash them over blank canvas, let the dripping acrylic tell stories of tomorrows with eternal sunshine. I would take molds of happiness and press my laughing mouth against the fold of the envelope as I send it onward into the great beyond.
Maybe I will write something bitt
matchstick heart. the tree outside my window is starting to blossom and sometimes I wonder if I ever will. I touch cotton sheets, the grass, my skin, but don't feel a thing. it's not that I think I'm dead inside, but I can't help but imagine that my ribs are kindle and my heart's a match. you see, I have this feeling that one day I'm going to forget to watch my feet, trip and start a wildfire. start an inferno. burn the stars out of the sky until the world is aflame and the heavens are naught but smoke. oh, but I can't stand the thought of burning you down. I can't stand the thought of watching this home you've so carefully built turn back to ash: sandcastle tmatchstick heart. by ~Corina90
dissolving language. words on silver strings that hang from cosmic lights, dipping low into oceanic bellies late at night. they are the type of words the breathe lightly upon the back of your neck, scrape gently against the small of your back. they are the type that causes your scalp to tickle and your calves to twitch, the sound of an echo deep within your clavicle that somehow reminds you exactly of home. it's the type of word that causes you to sit quietly on summer fields covered in winter frost because you're worried that if you move, winter will leave you. it is the kind that presses against the back of your eyelids when you're gently waking and tempts youdissolving language. by ~Corina90
wait and write to me then. don't tell me about the best way to capture the ocean in your mouth. don't whisper to me late at night about the salt crescent moons behind the bend of your elbows or the way that the breeze is tangling my hair around your ears until you're deaf from the wind. don't, for you see it's easy to whisper poetry when the starlit sky is a cliche over the slumbering world; it's easy to be a poet when the ground is rising up to cradle your shoulder blades and the earth is whispering love notes to you in your sleep. this is when it's easy.wait and write to me then. by ~Corina90
so don't write to me then.
instead, wait until the world is rejecting you from her breast and leaving you breath
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Deviousness `TimberClipse's dedication to our community is without question. From developing helpful tutorials, to being a community leader in groups such as #fella and #deviant365, you can always find Zev connecting with all areas of our community in order to spread his infectious enthusiasm and inspiring positivity. We are delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2012 to `TimberClipse, congratulations! Read More
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Sta.sh
"i am
the oh-honey-you-taste-so-good, the
shh-be-quiet-i-didn’t-come-to-hear-you-talk." made my eyes water. You caught the loneliness of being a single women with men who surround them with whispers and quiet lies.
Beautiful as always love
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If Jesus could walk on water, and humans are 78% water, if I walk on someone, I'm 78% Jesus?
If guns don't kill people, people kill people,
does that mean toasters don't toast toast, toast toast toast?
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My icon =Emotikonz
If Jesus could walk on water, and humans are 78% water, if I walk on someone, I'm 78% Jesus?
If guns don't kill people, people kill people,
does that mean toasters don't toast toast, toast toast toast?
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"Just Play With It A Little..."
That's like a verbal Seduction... Dirrrtttyyy.
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"Just Play With It A Little..."
That's like a verbal Seduction... Dirrrtttyyy.
looking at the pieces
without seeing the whole
because the
whole picture scars."
That pretty much sums up how i feel sometimes. Good Work!