sonnet iIf it's true that love's only ever lent Give me your love for now, and when it dies I'll score my heart to remember you by, Let calm winds erode us, and feel content. Love's warned me about its kerosene kisses, But I've had these acidic bites before-- Their bitter burning cooled. I still want more. I've never stopped seeking out small blisses. I won't vainly clutch your heart onto death, Instead opening my grasp to let go, Watching you recede; and though when you've left I'll feel love's loss, I won't let it stay so: If ours is a romance that doesnsonnet i
InkJon couldn’t speak, and when he'd run out of paper he'd leave notes on me. So I’d wake up in the morning with —Be back at eight, on my arms or —Meet me for dinner? on my legs. Then I’d walk around the rest of the day with the ink scorching into my skin, until I fell asleep with his compliments (—Your eyes look beautiful tonight, —I like your dress, —Your hair’s so soft, —Your neck smells good) resting in between my fingers.Ink
I could relive conversations from weeks ago; at work I’d peer closely at my collarbones to find the traces of a joke that I’d laughed at two nights
Throwing up on the graveThrowing up on the grave of Alfred Alderson (and loving wife, Elizabeth, RIP) I pause for contemplation – Whilst watching a ball of spit between strings of salivaThrowing up on the grave
swinging, precariously, beneath my lips. Heavily heaving again, I feel the rich harsh soup rise up, and I choke on the lumps. My eyes drown in acidic seas; I’m gasping for air, holding my stomach, clasping my head.
Feeling the alcohol whisk inside of me, I look back to where she’d derided me: the terracotta bricks staring blankly over the grey teeth of the graveyard mouth that
a distance aparta distance apart
a distance apart
of which lone ly fingers dream (imagining the skin-inbetween-skin
while desperating clawing) in lonely heart moments.
and of which forgotten lips are
remembered in schemas (like how i remember to act in love)
of which You are a copy of a
copy (of a copy); a ghost of what i think You were
of which voices cut through the doubts of written words
a distance apart
&n
Notice!
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"Let's eat, Grandpa!"
"Let's eat Grandpa!"
Be literate. Save lives.
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Let the beauty of what you love be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth. (Rumi)
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conorschild: overusing commas since '73 seconds ago
~thingsareprettyokay
#getLIT for people who think writing is just tops
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Who needs the english language when there are subtitles?
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