Dreor Meadow

Not a ghost, but very much ghost adjacent 🦷🩸🌾

[dreormeadow]

Good Bones

We feel too fragile

for me to write about.

Stone words stumbling

into sheet glass coffins.

I bury my worth

in the soft-skin

cemetery

behind my church.

My body crumbles under

the holiest violence.

Cells splitting like

saints surrendering to grace.

Under the microscope, God

flickers. Divine mitosis.

Subdividing the cathedral

that lives in my marrow

My lungs call out

for more air.

Praying to Gods

that aren't there.

I hate the peace

I find in silence.

My bones walk the line

between decay and design.

Restructuring my molecules

with faith in mind.

I can’t make a good home

of this body I was given.

Every two years, I

pull down and rebuild.

Vertebral column

stands still through it all,

and I remind myself

I still have good bones.

-Dorothea Blythe

[dreormeadow]

Testing Fate

Corpse in my best friends

backseat. Red capillaries,

black irises in full bloom.

I count our children's teeth.

Gap smiles on the deck.

Long car ride repeating

“Are we even there yet?”.

I find hope in every reel,

Each time you say

“I feel”.

I wonder if my existence

burns holes in your back.

If you think of me

Like that.

The boundaries of

our friendship are made

of wet paper.

I’m more question than answer.

Playing games I think you know.

I push past your limits

to prove myself right.

Two seasons of waiting.

trying to get you to bite.

Remind me you have teeth.

You shut down

Before I push the button.

We both swear that we are right.

The lines we string between us

are invisible and sharp.

Waiting for you to stumble,

find me in the dark.

Warm skin. Cold blood.

The pull of your eyes

is the only compass I trust.

I like when you snap.

Tell me what to do.

My own silly secret way

Of saying I'm into you.

[dreormeadow]

Constellation Chronometry 

Virgo, it’s a dark tomb.

The feeling of my full name,

spoken soft, in a loud room.

The script’s gone blue;

my stomach drops

when I look at you.

I collect sticky seconds,

clasp calloused clock hands,

Ticking time teaching temperance.

Thinking of rain,

finding it inside,

itching in my veins.

Ink spills secrets

like blood from an artery 

cauterised only by your eyes. 

These clouds pour salt

through holes in my ceiling,

into wounds I wont close.

This night bends inward,

a lung collapsed,

that hollow breath

will not bring back.

Dorothea B

[dreormeadow]

My Final Form; The Girl That You Love

New growth, bone-deep.

Structural remoddling.

Encoding water from drought.

Molecularly. 

Finding the threads in my atoms 

that tie me to you.

Lacing them softly around 

the bones of your wrist. 

Pulling on them 

when I’m bored. 

I want to trace

the fractures of your skull;

the depression in your chest,

with fingers stolen from your ex.

I create my personality

from every girl you’ve said you loved.

Carry their organs in my mouth

just to spit them back at you.

When it's over

and you’re dead.

I’ll be left. Foreign body.

Still obsessed.

[dreormeadow]

Pomegranate Seed

I blister through summer,

begging for mouthfuls

of bare branches. 

You can’t see me counting,

but I empty sunsets

just to see if you fall out.

Paint pictures to capture

the orange light 

that splinters from your knuckles.

I have eyes full of pollen,

green knuckles,

and a slick tongue. 

You indulge in the gloaming,

harvest grace from every ending,

reap goodbye before hello.

I live in beginnings,

a sapling fawning at first light,

spilling secrets for the sun.

Your burnt elastic days

snap back against my teeth.

Every season we circle,

two sides of the same coin,

falling on opposite swords,

between dry leaves and new weeds. 

Six months of bargaining,

learning to bend,

twin stems in asphodel meadows.

Divine compromise,

folding petals in the dark.

I stir in the compost of winter solstice.

Time swells before the split.

We press roots ready to bloom;

finding home in black-blue.

Vena amoris blossoms

below paper-thin skin.

Your jaw of rust fruit,

mine of marrow-mud.

Bite berries into soil.

We chew each other to pulp,

crack the seed open twice.

Laugh at juice down our arms. 

Pomegranate blood,

half-ruined, half-ripe.

Bound to the mouth of autumn.  

We live in the equinox; all rot 

and renewal. Willing and wilted.

Stitched vein to vein.

[dreormeadow]

It Only Stings In The Shower

My mouth waters 

at the thought of you.

Wet lungs, swollen tongue;

dry drowning in love.

I choke politely;

napkin to the corners 

of my mouth

while hypoxia settles in. 

Devotion has always 

bruised me blue;

this time I realise 

I'm covering you too. 

Half-moon, hanging gentle. 

Only rising to mock me.

Pulling my hair

while I try to sleep.

The night leans heavy.

Stars split the sky;

pale wounds pulse memory;

dark reminders of our distance. 

I dig nails through my chest

to prove you’re in there;

someone I can't exhume.

The only way you’ll let me have you. 

My tongue iron bars

keeping you here,

pressed against my teeth.

Wishbone I will not let go. 

Every hollow under my skin

bears your shape.

I could spend my life

carving spaces to let you in.

But will you ever come willingly?

[dreormeadow]

I should probably get a grip

Practicing patience

Makes me suicidal.

Every silence a rejection;

Constant humiliation. 

I swear I’m trying to be open;

Swollen pupils, 

Absorbing everyone

On the dance floor. 

I’m waiting for the comedown,

On a train that wont crash.

The wave never breaks.

My muscles are too tense. 

I wish I didn't live my life

Stuck in this up.

I want my back against the dirt;

a heartbeat that doesn't live in my ears.

I can still hear God laughing at me.

Turning the sky from grey to blue,

But never giving in.

I think the rain could bring me down.

I make everything

Too goddamn personal.

There was an earthquake today.

My first thought was 

It could be a sign from God;

An omen, about You. 

[dreormeadow]

I want to do something kind with my life. I want to sit down next to a crying stranger. I want the right words in my throat to make them feel at home. I want to know where the hurt and the right path to reach them. I want to be so gentle. I want to do something selfless. When no one is watching. I want it all to overflow. Helplessly pouring out of me. I want goodness to be innate. I want to do the right thing without second thought. I don’t want a choice.

[dreormeadow]

My Final Form; The Girl That You Love

New growth, bone deep.

Structural remoddling,

Encoding water for drought

Molecularly. 

Finding the threads in my atoms that

Tie me to you.

Lacing them softly around 

The bones of your wrist. 

Pulling on them

when I’m bored.

[dreormeadow]

Birds black out the sun.

The words won’t ever come;

I know I need to run,

Or I'll bite off my tongue.

[dreormeadow]

I keep needles next to my bed,

Inside the clam 

I forget to dust.

A mouse on my window;

Small white myth;

Lounging in the sun.

I sat on the floor for so long

The sky turned from blue to grey

Back to blue.

I’m finding new ways

Of looking for you. 

I see you

In mornings

And nights alone.

Find you on trains.

When no one is home

I whisper about you.

Trying to insert myself

Into your psyche.

I want you to think of me

In the sun and the sea

And in your bed. 

I reorganised my bookshelf

In an order curated for you. 

A trail of dust,

So if  you wanted to

You could deduce my favourites.

I pull cards and levers and 

Hair. I want you closer.

I worry no one can hear me.

I worry you aren't coming.

Letter lost in the post;

Or forgotten to send.

I wait for questions

I hope you are holding back.

I want you to want

To know me.

I want you to wonder

About the things I write;

Make them fit

For only you.

[dreormeadow]

I want you

to look me in the eyes

while you do something dishonest.

I want to lie

in complete silence;

Your hand on my stomach.

I want to make you coffee

And remember the ways

you like it.

I want to be more

than a notification on you phone;

I want to be

The one you come to

Small and tender.

My fingers down your arms.

[dreormeadow]

I turn waves into tsunamis;

Shape rain clouds into omens.

All all in the name of growing closer to god.

Faith fueled by fear.

- Dorothea Blythe

[dreormeadow]

Worlds Slowest Poem

There are hollows in my canine teeth,

syringes serving Sun. 

Repurposing the daylight,

fermenting on my tongue. 

My cheeks are full of bubbles,

chewy little blisters.

Echoing the laughter,

On the lips of sun-kissed sisters.

I wish for Winter often,

The sweetest of the seasons.

Where I can wear my jumpers,

Without giving any reasons.

I keep these secrets sacred. 

Dripping down my chin

Counting all the reasons

I cannot let you in.

Dorothea Blythe

[dreormeadow]

It’s pooling in my cheeks,  dripping down my chin, all of the reasons I can’t let you in.

Dorothea Blythe

[dreormeadow]

Roots Along My Optic Nerves

Irises bloom like weeds in my eyes.  Their muscles pull my gaze to you, I blink slow and stupid across the room.

Dorothea Blythe

[dreormeadow]

There are hollows in my canine teeth, syringes serving Sun.  Repurposing the daylight, fermenting on my tongue.

Dorothea Blythe