Your love smells like snow
in the deep of August, sucking
me like mosquitoes and you.
damn, you always had a talented
tongue, knowing just what to say
to roll me between your teeth and
keep me there; and I was hoping—
no, trusting— I’d not be crushed.
I should have known when
you raised your bones against me,
when you clattered your molars
together but never bothered hiding
the truth below your belt.
And a part of me says
I was in love with you.
Your love smells like snow
I'm passing the time before my appointment with the new psychologist with words... because when I die, I don't want the last thing on my mind to be hate and betrayal. This was more of a journal entry... because I quite enjoy trying to make my thoughts poetic the first time. Without revision. So if it sucks, that might be why. It's actually a challenge that is oddly thrilling, though!
I'm sorry I haven't replied to everyone yet. I have an inbox full of messages. I'll try to keep replying steadily. Hope everyone is well!
Best wishes, dearheart, and thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to leave me an amazing comment!
FeaturesI just wanted to take some time to share some lovely works I have read on here. It was a rainy day today, and I had a cup of hot cocoa, this was the loveliest way to spend the afternoon. Thank you, all you lovely poets!
War by WeirdAndLovely*Lost in Love* by Delice1941
how to grieve for people you do not know by Echolalic-Elliea poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mind by PrussianPersephonePart of being Human: by Lawli-Artsheepskin by Nullibicity
Thank you, again. Best wishes! and thank you for thinking of little ol me.
It really captures the concept of unconditional love. I wish the love in this poem was that pure.
Thanks for your time! I really appreciate the comment.
You put such thought into this comment that I cannot help but cherish it. Thank you. I shall try to take your advice in the best ways I can, and I shall try and grow with them. I really appreciate your wisdom and your care. It just means so much. More than you know.
You are wonderful. My best wishes are with you!
That, and your words have made me tear up again. You seem so sure of some greatness in my mind--or maybe my heart. That... and I suppose I really do take refuge in my writing. I don't let myself show enough to be known, so I suppose that's why I keep the fact that I write secret from most everyone. For I am in my words, all present and ugly, and needy, and whiny, and possibly, in some moments, beautiful. The fact that my heart can then be seen and even cherished... that did me in. Thank you so so much, you beautiful soul. It's never one's job to cherish a heart, or to build one up, but you are wonderful and beautiful and I do so appreciate your fantastic words. I really hope I can do them justice one day. I just... your words are so lovely, and I have no further words. I just really hope to embody them some day. Thank you so very much.
(and I must agree. Your right hand is not a butterfly flutter, for it is something more, bound for something higher than that of wings or clouds or cliffsides. I'm not sure I have a name for it yet, but your hand seems something closer to a guiding wind that can push even the perspective of fate, for some, and what an incredible gift that is.)
Sometimes you'll be a liar too, if not here than in the real world- that's alright, it happens. Sometimes the voices out there are louder than what you hear inside and the heart is a meek enough thing to pull you away from yourself when confronted with the world. Sometimes you won't feel that you're beautiful because you'll surround yourself with your problems and that's what you'll see, you'll feel ugly because you'll get dusty walking out there in the dust storms. Beneath all that though, beneath circumstances and the world of liars you'll still be beautiful. Sometimes the voice that says you're beautiful will be small but it'll not stop being true and poems like this will be proof to reinforce it- poems that make people honest and kind and lovely like you are. Quite frankly, I know everything I need to know about you to like you for who you are and not, perhaps, who you tell yourself you are.