i was not magnificent

half human and deeply flawed it hurts and there is nothing like it

[lonelyearthangel]

Whenever I feel like giving up on writing. I come back and look at these poems and remind myself where I started writing from. Can you imagine that I’m about to graduate with a masters in poetry? I am a breath away from a book. I am still here.

[lonelyearthangel]

Hi

[lonelyearthangel]

I just want to feel alive for one last time

[lonelyearthangel]

I’m trying to be more active, my poetry style has changed since I’ve been on here. What would you all like to see send me prompts

[lonelyearthangel]

I am still here

[lonelyearthangel]

I have a lack of time and inspiration at the moment but please send me if you like stories about your life, love, prompts or anything you want to get off your chest my inbox is open

[lonelyearthangel]

things are coming soon

[lonelyearthangel]

thank you for the 2,000 followers 

[lonelyearthangel]

Give me your worries, love. Everything you haven’t let go, that still haunts you on this land. There is a place where everything will be laid to rest. It lays between two rivers that once diverged, who merge together in the most splendid of streams. We will meet in the yoke between, where the sky meets it’s lover the horizon, and the stars kiss the land goodbye. There will stand the tree of time, it’s branches reaching past the heavenly realm. It is not something godly, but a burned broken thing. Magnificent in the way it heals all it’s own wounds, it’s bark marred with the criss crossed lines of lovers. Beneath this tree we will meet for the last time, and my feet will touch the ground, in to a bed of wildflowers. You will look away, and shy from the truth that plagues you, I shall return to the world’s edge from a dream and say How lovely it was to meet such a wondrous youth, and I a lovely maiden. And I will not expect you to reply. We shall dig up all our fears and desires, from where we buried them at Mt Olympus’s feet and give them to the two rivers, diverged. Let us sit in this tree one last time, I will wish to grow wings, and you will wish for me to carry your burdens once again. In my hands, you found your matron. In yours, I found my saintlyhood, In the palm of God’s hand, You found your eden, And I was fooled into thinking it was mine too.

let us part where gods and goddesses are born, it’s time for a new world

[lonelyearthangel]

I hope you think of me, when you lay in bed, scrolling through pages of my poetry. My words aloft winged verses, ink spilling into the dark of night, bleeding past luminescent screens, and into the chatter of a city alive. I hope you think of me, with anger and disdain, regret of a failure to attain. I fly deftly between fingers, that clumsily reach to grasp. I am not easily caught, darling. Do not think you can cage me, alter me into a creature for your admirance only. I hope you think of me, as I metamorphose into things of nightmare, lay ruin to all your ambitions, dreams and misled beliefs. I break boys like you with a simple smile, and well timed words. I hide daggers in my books, write curses in blood-ink. I was here before your conception was even a thought in the back of a women’s mind who would come to regret you. Nothing better can come from a women, except another girl born into this waiting world. I hope you think of me, when you muse on your past conquests. Your ambition is nothing, compared to the siege I lay on cities whose names have not been an utterance for centuries, until every man is gone, nothing but ash and stardust. You cannot raise yourself up to a throne of a fallen angel, who drinks ichor like its honey. You are a fool if you think you can. I hope you think of me, as you lay in bed and realize I am just not another girl, that you can lay claim to. I hope you think of me, when I break you the way you’ve broken other girls for centuries. I hope you think of me, When I slit your throat and deliver you to god.

I sleep soundly, knowing you dream of me.

[lonelyearthangel]

send me poetry prompts

[lonelyearthangel]

love

/ləv/

noun

1. Driving with the windows down the wind rushing through your hair, ocean roaring at the coast, saltwater smiles and sunburned skin; asking for a kiss that is sweet like cherry popsicles melting on your tongue, like the innocence of the first heart to beat in time to yours; reaching for the sun even though you know you will come back burned, being swallowed by a wave and washed up to shore, gasping smiling, laughing with seaweed tangled in your fingers, reaching for their hand for the first time and blushing like you are five again, but this time you don’t scream cooties and run to wash off your hands but instead wish they will never let go; the sand under your feet as you walk amongst mermaids, swimming in the vast expanse of the ocean at midnight, and feeling safe among the unknown; the feeling of being somewhere you know you shouldn’t be but you want it even if it hurts.

2. Touching fingertips through chainlink fences, bleeding from scraped knees when you both tried to ride a skateboard at the same time, it was bittersweet to pick gravel out of our skin together; the hard part about everything, but the sweetness that comes after, like cracking the top of a creme brûlée with the back of a spoon, breaking everything but somehow making it better when you melt it all back together, a place that isn’t perfect but it’s you; an abandoned merry go round after the sun sets, the lights twinkling under unfettered growth, as it groans slowly turning, hindered by tendrils of ivy; something good that is hidden and broken but you know where to find it, and you know you don’t need to fix it to enjoy it.

3. The secret spot between their ribs and their lungs where the light lays, where you find god and scripture in their veins, the crackling of electricity between fingertips; wanting to let go but being afraid to jump, even though you know you have wings and letting them unfold because when they are outstretched and your feathers intermingle with theirs it tastes like heaven; having everything taste like heaven when you are with them, suddenly even ice-cream is better, and water tastes like honey; painting the ordinary into unordinary with a single touch, a watercolor painting unfolding over canvas, the art of kintusgi, put me back together with gold; the feeling of a cloudless endless blue sky, wanting to build a home in their hands, thinking about the heaven of their chest as you lay in the back of a truck watching the sun unfold it’s golden rays, and ambrosia hues over the light blue horizon; the cold breath of a new morning; the feeling of knowing no matter what it is going to be okay and that everything is beautiful, but nothing more than them.

4. Giving but with boundaries, fences lined between hearts, the fear of being too much or too little; that sinking disappointed feeling in your heart when your dandelion blows away before you can make a wish, getting the smaller piece of cake, dropping your ice-cream after only eating half; being afraid of giving because you aren’t sure what you are getting back; being okay with being picked last because you still get to play, getting a shirt you didn’t want but love anyways, the warmth and sweet gooeyness of underbaked brownies; knowing that some may find you too much or too little but finding the one that knows you are just right; not being afraid of taking a leap but instead of flying through the air getting a mouth full of dirt and laughing anyways; knowing you will get hurt but finding the good in it. 

5. Wanting someone so bad it hurts, it burns more than that time you spilled hot coffee on your lap, more than sunburn and scrapes, more than that cut on your lip or that bruise on your thigh, it hurts so much but you can’t put a bandaid on it; going to grab their hand but them turning away, and just barely touching their fingers, smiling but you just get a frown back, opening your heart but being told to close it; wanting to give anything for affection, infatuation, everything you got, just knowing they would like you if they gave you a chance, but you aren’t getting a chance; getting a no back on your love note, getting your valentine returned; crying in a dark bathroom stall wishing you were not alive, calling yourself a fool, but you aren’t a fool because opening your heart isn’t foolish, but brave; giving all the good and getting all the bad, being selfless; the burning pain of unrequited love.

 6. To be mortal, with your head in your hands and your heart in your throat.

[lonelyearthangel]

happy valentines day loves 

[lonelyearthangel]

for when you wanted to send in prompts; a blood starved vampire who fallen in love with his guardian angel, the vampire wants to do no harm but predator instincts gives him unspoken violent urges of hurting the divine creature he loves

I can love you no longer from this body, darling.My jaw is cracking apart, and I cannot keep it closed.My teeth is sick of leaving marks in this bloodied tongue, in the shape of your name.Will you kiss me even though I taste of ash and iron?

Everything hurts,even your voice of flaxen gold.It is too like the sun, darling,the eye of heaven shines on me nevermore.

I’d swallow the sun for you, if I could.make my veins molten ore.Darling, I’d give you the stars,they are the only thing I can bear to see anymore.

Your wings are divine against the moon,shining silver, flying far and fast.I rise with you, but not with such grace.

Keep me an arms length away,even though all I want you to dois fold myself against your birdcage chest.I miss the bloom of a heart,How it’s beat fills up a room.

My fingers trace against the outline of your jaw,head nestled between your collarbones,teeth pressed against my lips,your holy body burning at my touch.I wish the only thing that ran through you was ichor.

Is this a love or a blood lust?A sickness for your flesh and your flesh only.I’d tear myself apart, supernova until I am stardust,rather than lay a hand on you, darling.I am of the moon, and you are the sun, the holy one.Do not act like you can love me, in this bodythat is nothing more than a vessel made of crushed little stars.

This is a lovesickness, this is a bloodlust.I will give it up all for you.I will smash every lightbulb in this house,tear down every curtain, and wait for the rising sun.Will you kiss me darling even though I taste of ash and iron?

- i am a darkened room in an apartment building, empty, alone and waiting for the sun

[lonelyearthangel]

Tell me what to do with my hands, for when they aren’t wrapped around yours, they are wrapped around my own throat. This existence is a death dance, my partner, the dagger. Let me kiss your throat and bloom flowers in the form of bruises, this a holy union. They tell me you are a great man, that you do not fall easy. They say our love will flow sweet like honey. As if this is a love, not a desperation, a futile attempt at self preservation. Darling, I am not a gentle woman. I will lock eyes with you, as you shove your rough fingers down my mouth. You are a greedy man, with harsh words and no penance for fragile women. I carry the world of my ancestors in this ribcage, I am the protectorate, the savior, the liberator. I drip with the blood of women greater than me, so tell me again that great men do not fall. I will spit back every punch at you, I am a sunset of a bruise, visceral, burning, pushing my thumbs down into your eyes. I was always the blind one, the whore, the virgin, words given to me by a man who is not worthy. Only one person will die in this tent tonight. I’ve been killed too many times, to not know how to drag myself out of the grave again. Find me one foot out of the coffin, in-between your sheets that smell of wine. You never were a man were you? I am a ghost, the covenant, the ark. My country, my sword, my dagger, my shield. You have came from me and you will end by me. This is a death dance, darling. Me, you and my dagger. I’ll sink my teeth into your throat and swear it tastes of honey, our love flowing freely. The women inside me are bloodthirsty. Tell me what to do with my hands, darling. They were only made for one thing, this is a bloodletting.

an ode to Judith slaying Holofernes ( a poem for strong women)

[lonelyearthangel]

I Darling, this is a love that is not easily buried. You rattle this ribcage, like a death dance. This is a bloodletting, this is a ritual to rise the dead. I will come back up like bile in the back of your throat. I will haunt this land from the living to the past. II I am the rain that finds it’s way through sealed windows. The cold that slithers between closed doors. I am the breath on your neck, a hot scathing wind that whips around your ankles. I leave you love notes in the form of gravestones. I am echoing in every obituary you’ve ever read, lingering in the background of your photos like ghost. III Find me one foot out of the grave sliding beneath your sheets at night trailing grave dirt, and dead things. I will press my cold flesh against yours.  Let me memorize your sleeping face, I cannot afford luxuries like rest anymore. This body is a curse, a sown together patchwork ghost of nostalgia and forgotten memories. This bed is a womb, a warmth I am too numb to feel. God please let us be reborn in the morning light. IV Make me six feet deep, press the dark soil down with your scarred hands, mottled burns birthed in the form of cherry blossoms. If my fingers rise out of the grave and grasp yours, the ones that so tenderly buried me, please let me kiss them for one last time. Make a rose out my rotting mouth, my tongue is the only thing that moves smoothly anymore. I was always a fast talker darling. V I can’t remember who the dead one is anymore, so bury me beneath Jerusalem. Sprinkle holy water, where this body lays, burn these bones. Make an altar to this stolen flesh, this is a sacrifice to a god that has been forgotten. This resurrection is a curse, my body sown beneath the holy city, is always reaped again. Let this cursed flesh be laid to rest, I don’t want to come back anymore, love.   VI Godlyhood is a curse, I will throw myself off of every bridge, skyscraper, in front of every train. Let me fall back into the expanse of things. I am cursed with this living that is not a living, but a dying over and over again. Lay your altar to rest, do not brew up any more wicked things. There is a loneliness in this existence, that isn’t made to be. I want to be torn asunder in the night, a sacrifice to a god that is not kind. VII If I come back for a third time. don’t you dare bury me again. Leave behind your town, your name, your existence. I am a plague of man, you asked for this but I did not. Burn my wings, they aren’t for flying anymore. Remember, darling I am a love that is not easily buried, I am a name that will not be forgotten.

let the gods be gods in the night and the mortals torn asunder in the light

[lonelyearthangel]

vessel 

/ˈvesəl/

noun

1. I am in the drivers seat, with my foot on the gas, and a laugh that cuts through glass. The night is rushing past my window like a dying gasp. I want to remember what it’s like to fly again, so close my eyes, take my hands off the wheel in an open embrace. This is a  prayer to something that lingers on my tongue like your taste, like the smell of rain, like the blood in these veins. I want to crash my car. I want to die. I want to feel alive.

2. Let this beat thump in my ears like a heavenly prayer. There are gods in this club tonight, and I dance with every single one of them. Let me forget what I have become, turn the music up until I cannot hear anymore. I drink like it’s holy water, and say a prayer over every shot. Carve my name, your name, our name into this bathroom wall, into these bones, this flesh. Let these walls shake with every inhale and exhale of breath. Let’s shoot up old memories, get fucked off of nostalgia. I want to forget. I want to remember. I want to regret. Take everything, I say, take everything, until I am whole again darling. 

3. I came back from the grave, for this and only this. Hands bruised and bloody from when I ripped out of my coffin, honey on my lips and flowers in my ribs. Come to me with open arms, love. Let this night wrap my dress around me like a noose, trailing blood with every step. I am on the edge of this end, gun in my hand, a cathartic release. There are roses in the barrel and ivy erupting from my lungs. I came back from the grave for this inhale and exhale, the feel of dirt under my nails, the taste of chocolate, the cold night breeze, the neon lights, the city and it’s mortality, your hand in mine, and  the love, the love, the love.  I killed myself for this and I’ll do it again. I killed myself for you and I’ll do it again.

4. I want to throw myself off a bridge. Float down the river, looking at the stars, hair like a halo, a tender hearted Ophelia born again with cuts on her wrists, you forsook me and this is my wedding vow. Drag me down like you did to Icarus, let this sea swallow me and breathe new air into these lungs. Birth me with a set of wings, burned into this back a prayer in Enochian verse. I want the angels to hear me, from this body that is not a body. Let her be reborn a bride, and give her a son. Give her what you won’t give me every time, a chance to be alive. Give her the holy one. 

5. Let these last words be a prayer, I came for you and I will again and again and again. This is my  life, and god all I want to do is feel alive. I will make this house, a home, this city, my kingdom. I will write this story in my blood, burn every bible in sight. This is my life, but also hers, that I cannot control. Gabriel, I am the god of this town and it’s screaming sweet in my ears.  I am the god of this town, please tell me otherwise. I am the thousandth one. I am her only son. So remember my name,  for we are the one and the same. We are  the god of this town. I am the god of this town.