[x]

A Poet's RomanceShe was the quiet sort,
tsunamis tucked
within her eyes,
anxieties pinned
to pottery skin;

she would mold herself
into moonlight butterflies
and glist'ning calla lilies,

pure and white and
beautiful.

and when night cast
itself upon her in
heated, hard'ning flames,

she’d smash herself
upon the rocks
and in morning start
again.

MonophobiaYour hand found my heart with ease,
just as your words always found cracks in weakened armor,
and with the same fluidity that constantly drew my gaze,
filling me with childish need atop the comfort of company,
even if lonely:
we were never ones to stand individually.

Then you play my heart strings,
with the skill of devoted pianists and the poise
of Egyptian princes,
garbed in such confidence I have no choice but to move my lips
to words hummed beneath your steady breath;
the words my heart stammers over,
as weak a fool as ever.

Necessities mash like fevered lips,
merging us as one being,
one entity of which to rejoice with

The Concept of PerspectiveI unfurl with lavender,
wild and stretching possibilities
within velvet serenity.

I sway joyously with conducting trees
and fall with musical, tumbling leaves,
recognition whole;

and for once,
time does not govern
but witnesses.

I change like the seasons,
no complicated reason...
just that I do;

it is as they always say:
some things, they never change.

The Wind Beneath My WingsA gust,
Ruffling the feathers of my charcoal wings
Hung low in my despair.
A tilt of the chin
Upwards,
To the dark midnight of hopes and dreams
I cannot reach,
Twinkling as if they still are beckoning me.
I was numbed.
I gave up on them long ago.

Another soft caress;
Like a push urging me gently forward.
It is not like the cold I am accustomed to,
But warm as it rushes past me.
Please wait…
I have not felt the wind in so long.

So much time spent nailed to the ground.
Do they even work anymore;
These blackened wings of mine,
Tainted with the darkness I used to dwell with
And ruined by my impurities?
Though they are ta

CrescendoCellos sing an agony of the heart;
an astringent song of parting,
tearing at tears burrowed deep within the iris.

Emptiness fills the void of your absence,
accompanied by an intolerable yearning
which asphyxiates me, submerges me
within tears I leave unshed.

Please mollify me, liberate me,
of your reminiscence, of this attentive desertion;
my trembling whispers cannot stray from your name.
I cannot dream of alien touches, or others' devoted affections:
the salvation provided for the heart I keep in darkness.
and I find I cannot blind it to the joys of light once entirely experienced,
and so candidly felt.

I blam

Bone-danceMy skeleton is night
and solace,
ever the drifter
in powdered skies and
hollowed sight.

These red rivers
stir and breathe
in bone-dance:
temptation’s lullaby
for a width and stretch of slumber.

Kisses give soul to
granite marble;
and my bones,
(oh, what dreaming bones):

they dance no more.

Dare to DreamSo bravely envisioning goals within your mind,
those same goals that slowly change to dreams,
reflected in your eyes not just the aspirations
of a creative mind,
but of a dreamer.

The smallest of smiles,
as if to seal the deal...

already so eager to reach your destination,
with butterfly wings strapped to your back
and arms outstretched to soar.

If Love Would Leave a LegacyYour lovely crystalline bones,
wrapped tight inside chilled casing,
laying strewn against old cherry wood
with company of lover's notes upon your lower lip;
a last caress of parchment as we bury you in earth.

Goodbye my love, Goodbye,
words that refuse to leave lips chapped and clamped in mourning,
as silent and white as knuckles curled in trembling fists.
Reddest rivers slink sultrily down tight airways, filled with aching hunger,
and sliding alongside sores of salivated lies,
where I swallowed all my silent sobs in concurrence with
these barbed and yearning sentiments.
It was nowhere near enough.

Regret shall rid unsightly

Practice Makes PerfectI feel the blow to my very bones
And as painful as it is,
I do not cry out.
But more painful is the agony inside my chest,
The chaos,
And the constricting of my heart;
The way it skips a beat and I forget to breathe.

I guess I deserved it for my thoughtless words,
But why so hard?
Why with so much force?
And why to someone you supposedly love?
But love is pain
And without it you cannot grow closer.
So I take it all in silence,
My eyes downcast.
I look everywhere but her eyes.
I know there will be regret,
But it is nothing compared to the betrayal I feel.
She said she would never do it again.
Is this the proof of her prom

Sea
Her love was bone white,
unblemished and
stunning

[ but never like diamonds. ]

Truth then became water to
pruning fingers and splitting lips,
while she drowned
in the mouth
of a liar like me.

.Were We Not MarionettesI bend
as
she bends,
arms a graceful
bridge of mourning—

our eyes
rippling plains of remembrance.
(but at least we remember)

I lean beside
her,
both hopeless
heaps of wood
and string;

pirouettes fall
in time to blurry
rivers

and irises plead
only as allowed:

moisturizing this
shell of
splintered skin.

The Juncture of Skin and BoneRipples of rib, moving smoothly over hills of bone,
an expansion of skin dipped and concave. such
irregular habits give way to soft sinking
skin, mountainous ridges piercing through malnourished flesh like
enamel slowly leaking out bone; traitorous and seemingly backwards.

Always shrinking—hunching inwards due in part to
will and the structured stretch of spine.
and what simple thought ever plagued the soul, until
ridicule spilled from pore and pore,
enabled and assiduous.
now plastic measuring tapes
entrap bare imperfect waists, pulling tighter, tighter, and tighter
still. stripping the skin clear with gut wren

On the SeafloorUnseeing eyes attracted to unseeing people:
a tidal cycle that pulls me under—
buries me,
beneath salted layers of foam.

I thought mistakes bred solutions—
different methods of hopeful change,
but I lay submerged,
and I subjectively ponder
this warden Loneliness
until my eyes secret watered gallons
to outline saline graves.

I rest in my watery casket of winding seaweed,
and I breathe in the moonlight from peaks of exuberant waves;

I pull the stars over my head, fluff the shell-filled sand
and am finally free.

In October.She is chameleons,

bare-tree umbrellas
somewhere beneath
Autumn’s underbelly,

beside once-remembered friends
of once-remembered pasts,

falling fragmented in kitchen sinks
and cleaning bottles,

still
breaking hearts for puzzles,

still
bandaging wounds on tables
of answers without questions;

and she is still unknown
come next October.

MelancholiaI crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.

I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.

I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.

I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…

and how easily resignation
was acquired,
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
resolute

and chronic.

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Stardust.I partook in the poison
of your miracle, for
I believed you a magician:

You pulled chronic weariness
from my marrow—

my faith,
from hazy depths grown
too accustomed.

The eggs spoiled fast:
you pulled from your hat
an act of distrust,
and you left me

with stardust,

with stardust.

04 - Remember MeThink not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.

Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.

Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.

My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.

SeasickDown wakened skin
words dribbled and fell,
brimming with silken
promises.

Hands intertwined to join
scarred veins and heartbeats,
while I bled you onto pages,
into waters of sin and heartbreak,
lovingly numb, subjectively blind;

I let waves bury me, beneath
winding seaweed and smooth siren calls,
believing we would join further—
closer.

When I vomited the poison
of lies, the pungent ache of salt,
it was upsetting but not surprising;
“I should have known better.”

( I only wanted to love you. )

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Submitted: September 30, 2012
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Unfounded

by ~Nullibicity, Sep 30, 2012, 7:22:42 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{I cram words within murky, hollow spaces,
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.

I squeeze articles and adjectives—
supporting metaphors and similes—
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.

The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.

Why give transparent, misleading hope…
Does pleasure derive from humiliation—
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:

Language wilts on my fingertips,
turns to ash in my mouth…
the gorge in my throat which partakes in
young suffering.

Yet...
how significant is agony endured within silence,
inside pitiful thoughts?
It is nothing notable of specific emotion,
only biting veracities upon repetition
and foolish belief:

"I am no poet of words."}

Unfoundedby ~Nullibicity

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{Sometimes I just feel like a joke.

I'll probably move this to scraps in a few days: I just wrote it now to combat some emotions/happenings.
It seems negative... but to me there is a somewhat hopeful message at the end, however subtle, an unspoken lesson.}

~Sigma-Echo-Seven Jan 8, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Such a compelling piece.

~Nullibicity Jan 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I wanted to thank you for this wonderful comment. I apologize it took me so long to reply (life can keep one quite busy at times); I feel horrible.
Your words, however, made me feel such happiness: I'm glad you liked this poem! I am so appreciative you chose to share your opinion and that you chose to leave a comment. Overall, I am extremely grateful!

Best wishes to you, and I thank you for everything

~Sigma-Echo-Seven Jan 20, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

~scorpiandoll Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Photographer

Don't move this to scraps! I think it's amazing!

you choose just those word who make this poem visual. If you understand what I mean.
It's like you SEE the poem instead of reading it...

~Nullibicity Jan 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much. Your comments always make me smile!
I really appreciate everything you do for me. You are absolutely amazing

Thanks for everything, again! I am very grateful!
(and I apologize for the late reply)

~scorpiandoll Jan 23, 2013 Hobbyist Photographer

I'm glad that I can make you smile, it means a lot to me to make someone smile

You're welcome you know

~LightOverpowers58 Oct 4, 2012 Student Writer

Dear, you should never feel like a joke when it comes to anything, especially writing. This piece is absolutely gorgeous and has your usual wordplay peeking through.

The third stanza:

The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.

has to be my favorite...its truth need not be repeated.

~Nullibicity Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You always make me feel a hundred times better, and you inspire such empowerment within me. Thank you! I hope I do not tire you with my many mood fluctuations; I am an emotionally-based person, so I am easily swayed.

I am very excited you liked this poem, however! The fact you also loved the third stanza made me smile: that specific stanza was of course the most personal and the most meaningful (to me, anyway). You always seem to pick out the ones I put the most feeling into

Thank you for always reading my work and giving such honest feedback: I cannot express my gratitude enough!

~LightOverpowers58 Oct 4, 2012 Student Writer

I'm glad I did so much with so little words...(Sorry for that by the way, I was still trying to process the piece

)

You are welcome for the feedback, I am always glad to give it.

Ah, I seem to have a knack for choosing stanzas like those...they tend to be the ones to hit me the hardest.

What mood fluctuations?

~Nullibicity Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh no worries: to me, you always have such lovely words! It does not matter how many there are, as the content always stuns me and brings forth my gratitude

Well, I'm not a naturally positive person (though, is anyone?). Actually, I used to be very negative. Some recent events (I posted a journal asking for advice) have had me feeling rather low. I'm also a more... dependent person, which often leaves me with moods that sway from depressed to irritable. I try my best to stay positive, but I find my emotions often affect me (professionals have told me I'm very sensitive emotionally)... thus my confidence sometimes shatters in areas... hence the "I sometimes feel like a joke" statement.

But I'm working on it! The progess is slow, but I think I am definitely getting better at it!

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