ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature
something to write about as home
I'd been drug sniffed
addled & otherwise
by agents in
deep
blues
demanding
points of origin
questioning allegiance
mis-
or
re-
placed
hope to heart to god
like father thought
or
hand to fist to mouth
like mother taught
as if no one had
colored those pale
shades of
in between
so I shook
as all good books
taught me
stretched taught
toward
a sinuous
trail
of spread
skin
a constant
a(c)cord
a consistent
connection
to the shape
you've made me
I tried to trace
this journey
as a map
but found you'd
folded us
into
song
Literature
Firsts
I had sex
for the first time
on a Sunday
when
October air
ate away the blinds
and snake-lines of light
pressed in
at undone corners.
I remember less of you,
and more of me,
cocooned
in yellow sheets
how you kept mumbling
questions and I
lay there,
still.
The prodding,
the jostle,
are so much less vivid
than the sense
that I was shedding
skin
becoming something,
tighter,
slimmer,
more stream-lined.
So that later
in the bathroom,
I saw myself,
the mirror
twisting my hipbones
into
shelves that I could
rest my elbows on.
I was nineteen
then,
so you,
two times my weight,
welding my bones
into yours,
made
Literature
Of solace
sleeping in today was the essence,
waking up the process of becoming singular
.
I want to end it
but I can't stop associating you with these images—
: a season being flung onto the ocean, making a mess of color
.
there's an insect caught in my poetry,
trying to mend its broken wing
.
Your reminder:
the exhaustion's relative & it never comes too late
.
: blinks of cartoon sunrises & twenty-pointed, starry eyelashes
.
m
Suggested Collections
just look at what you've done
i've said 'fuck' more than twice tonight
i've said 'fuck' more than twice tonight
Mature
© 2012 - 2024 anniba
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In