SweetVioletGoddess

how can women house these winter thorns in their chests without becoming beasts? the soft and heavy black stretch of wanting, the bluebells that grew in the warmth of his sleeping breath, a dark million miles of silence how can a woman bear it? that ache for light against wilderness as he burns and strikes fires in the dark the ache to sit and be warm in his spit and his glow, his warm body, his warm mouth as the wet of the woods falls quiet ...

i'd turn this into prettier poetry, but there's something perverse in saying i thought we had something real in metered simile- so here’s a harsh truth: i am sad. i lost a hope i'd held since i had hands to hold with: that when such sparks as ours fly, no one flees, and when flowers blue and pure as lullabies finally bloom- burst- give birth to belly butterflies and rich rosy bubbles in the blood, they are tended, not cut and left to wither   in the shade. and for a girl who swore off disney, i've been foolish- charming kisses never woke what slept in your soul like they roused mine. love does not sow love each time she plants

i. she said she'd never be an alcoholic- got drunk on hipbones instead, and the smooth punch delivered by the curve of a woman's waist, and all those wine-rich promises that lose their sweetness once they hit the air, ii. never quite sobered up. iii. warned her daughter that people, when drunken in too deeply, are just as dangerous as liquor.

for you i would catch summer like a teen catching glory on a lean silver bicycle- ripping through the streets of Triumph and Nostalgia as if i could conquer or escape each one and rise- rise- rise with the reddening of your cheek as it mirrors our desire- i will chase you until my starving hands can feel no curves; until my eyes cannot contain the bursting of your colours like parachutes on a stale blue sky; until my mouth no longer tastes the days of August on your lips-   your season lingers like a haze in the sahara: some oversaturated mirage, or maybe just a miracle that winked out too fast.

I love you like a stranger. I love you like I’d love an anonymous woman across the road, because of the way she smiles, because of the way the sunlight plays off of her hair, because of the way her heels kiss the ground as she walks away. I love you like I’d love someone unknown and distant, impossible and hopeless, I love you like I’d love someone who’s never laid eyes on me.