- Mood:
Anxious - Reading: The Return of the Native
hey, this is my favorite brainstorming session ever:
We measure our days on a certain scale
One being worst, ten being quite all right,
And one day, when we found the universe
Tucked off between eternity and graves,
The rating hit a record-high at eight.
But that was long ago, I guess, today.
I want you to glide, glittering, out from
Under my skin, quick as moonlight-shadows
Vanish in streetlights. Well, whoever saw
Such light so pale, white and frail, against the
Lush grass (While you, lush, can’t stop falling on
Your ass, with your moonshine or whatever
Cool kids drink these days to get old fast.)
I want your sleek blue feathers to balance
In my creased palm, icy skin against flight,
Moon-white, my pallid hand and your plumage,
So that the wind can separate us soon.
And autumn proves that death has never been
So breathlessly beautiful- though summer
Lived and breathed with its glossy crimson pulse.
In the midst of the heavy air you left,
You left me standing, lonely, by the bridge,
But the trains don’t whistle through anymore.
Still, smoke breaths by till the stars turn green,
And the sunset’s slippery residue,
Forgotten, and so sweet, burns in the dusk.
The sky’s matte pearl, powdered, puckered silver,
Stands watching as the lights blink into place.
I’m sorry I slept through that one sunrise,
When the cloud-bottoms burn in pink day-birth,
And sorry that I couldn’t find the moon
One midnight in the mountains far away,
And that I never told you ‘bout your eyes-
I noticed them before I noticed you.
(Blue, but not blue. Honest, but not quite true.)
We confessed all our sins, all our virtues,
In that scintillating truth morning wreaks,
To the buzzing machines of the century,
Whirring past dawns, past and future in print.
I decided I knew what romance was.
I want to let you know someday somehow
That you can’t show a girl the stars
And intend to leave them up in the sky.
this is summer, to me.
i refuse to believe it was a year ago.
refuse.
Grey Matter
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If death is the answer to love's mysteries,
Then bleed on my darling to the sound of a dream
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**On holiday**
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~Member of the 3eyes club! Inanely Inspired Insanity [link]~
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The Summer "Tell Me a Story" Contest
"I'd rather have a powerful poem full of technical flaws than an insignificant poem that was flawless." --*Mahi-Fish
=Wordspill!
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[H] o u s e
Shamble bobble dibble dooble
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