(no subject)

[twisting_fate9]

poetry is the water that wears through stone -- whoever wrote it on my english teacher's wall.

I. Forever
I am breathless,
full of your air-
handprints along my ribcage
pressing into my flesh.

your lips slipping and
sliding
along my skin.

Aching against me
like a stone pressed
into the
sand,
burning
under the sun,
too warm to touch.
You have ruined
Me.

II. First
The silk ocean is vicious,
biting at her skin.
Drowning her naked limbs,
so delicate,
so soft.

The gleaming red is taunting,
mocking her heart,
hiding the blood.
Broken, she is
tainted.

The murmuring wind is unwelcome,
Pitying her soul.
Words that are
fake,
full of lies.

In the night she
wakes,
caught in his net.
In the wrong bed.

III. Without
I breathe in its stillness - it is pale,
coffee coloured cheeks are snow white;
it reminds me of paper,
I want to curl it up, throw it away.
I want to hide.

My eyes see it still, even as I turn away,
I close them.
The darkness is full of bright orbs, staring.
They are blank now, unseeing.
I want to hide.

Cold and naked, uncovered.
It would shiver, curl its fists.
Tiny and breakable like
delicate fluttering wings.
I want to hide.

I am empty, an unfilled vessel, lonely chalice.
Unworthy, unhealthy,
It was my fault.
Broken down in my poison flesh.
I want to hide.

I long for cries,
tears.
The silence is heavy,
unbearable.
I want noise.

It does not come.

IV. Our Story
Scattered,
little bugs
running
up
and
across time.

Dirty bugs,
death,
pain,
all on the pages.

Tiny as a grain of sand,
so significant.
Only to be forgotten.

Lessons we do not
learn,
us bugs
never learn