Acceptably Unacceptable

[papercrumblingfool]

How many times can a heart break?

[papercrumblingfool]

The cadence of suffering has begun.

Cesare Pavese

I

am 

in 

pieces.

[papercrumblingfool]

books ease the pain

When I called her beautiful for the first time she told me she wanted to be something more than that. That for once she wanted someone to tell her she was breathtaking. But when I sat next to her without speaking as my eyes ran over her face in overwhelming desire, she laughed when I answered that she stole my breath and talking was just too much. I think it would take a miracle for her to love herself, but  then again I never thought I’d feel my heart jump out of my chest for someone else but then she swooped in and made me wonder if miracles actually did exist. 

[papercrumblingfool]

Day Three

I can still feel the silkiness of your dark hair fall through my fingers as you lay, eyes softly shut and fingers clenched tight in self loathing.  

[papercrumblingfool]

you can’t remember, but

last night,

when you heard the rain pouring

outside of our window,

you sat up in bed and I could see

the freckles on your skin glowing.

when you pulled the sheets off of yourself,

and clambered onto the cool tile floor

the walls creaked in awe and

the lights followed you, flicking on

as you passed by.

when I got outside you were already

lying in the middle of the park,

soaking up the rain like a sponge.

and I, like some mad fool, dropped my umbrella

on the dry concrete stairs.

I dove into the rain and swam your way.

your eyes were closed and the rain

had filled the cracks between them

and your nose,

it filled the crevice between your lips,

and pooled around your waist like a belt.

I stood, for a moment, over you,

listening to the gods screaming and grumbling

up above.

a smile dawned on your lips and you motioned

for me to lie down.

In the moments we layed there

my skin grew slick and I felt

the water seeping into it

and into my bones

and organs.

you stood up so suddenly that I felt my heart

jump out of my chest, trying

to follow you.

you threw your hands up to the sky and

hollered back into the void.

I was an empty glass, and as you

whooped and danced under the coffee stained sky,

I felt myself fill up.

soon I was spilling over,

waterfalls rolling off my tongue.

I had never seen anything so beautiful.

you were a flame in the middle of it all,

steam rising around you as you made contact

with the sky.

now it’s morning and I can still see the image

of your rain soaked silhouette

in my mind.

you don’t remember.

and you wonder why your clothes are damp

or why there’s mud between your toes,

underneath your fingernails.

but I will never forget, how could I?

my mind ponders as I watch you

and I think a part of me will always be

a little bit rain soaked.

[papercrumblingfool]

Butter

Tell me about the oceans,                                                     dear

And the night sky in wake of the moon.

When I first met you, you were a hurricane,                      storming         

the sea salt spraying off of you onto me ,until,

my clothes weighed me down

like an anchor on a vast,                                                   pirate ship.

I remember the way your whispers roared

in my ears like the crash of thunder.                           heart splitting sound.

Tell me about the mountains, dear one,

the jagged tipped teeth, bumpy along your arms,

you were my rolling hills,

your eyes painted sunsets made of gold.

When you are gone, don’t forget how the moon shines,

or how the rain falls like mercury                                     poison, baby,

flooding the crackly streets in silver.

One day under the green crumple leaves

I asked myself “was it worth it?”

all those hurricanes made of salt and butterfly wings

The storm was gone and my soul was spinning                ,tornadoes,

like a cyclone lodged in butter

and I knew that without wild wind storms

I was an empty mason jar,

soft colors glinting in the light.                                             empty, reborn

Have you ever thrown a glass?

remnants strung along the ground

shimmering like diamonds.

Fill me with glitter and ice crystals.

Sometimes people need hurricanes

and the dark silence that fills the in between                          ,aching,

feels like the air crushing your lungs,

instead of expanding them.

Don’t ever regret loving a hurricane                                    ,dear one,

Don’t ever regret being a cyclone.

[papercrumblingfool]

I am infinite 

and my bones are infinite 

and someday when the sun bursts in my chest

I will feel the burn as it rolls down my cheeks

like sap on a hot summer day. 

[purplebuddhaproject]

[papercrumblingfool]

There was crumple paper fire on the corner of the forest the boy sat roasting his soul over the edge under the bright moonstone stars, his fingers shook and his self floated away in the smoke pressing up against the sky in love

again.

-red

[mypenleaksiridescence]

[papercrumblingfool]

Lost Souls

The first time the boy gave in and reached out grasping a star between his fingers and slipping it into his mouth and down his throat he felt like he was swallowing the sun. It dripped through his chest like hot honey and it raged in his lungs.

[papercrumblingfool]

Full of Bees

She asked me why I loved the bees so much and I replied "Because my insides are full of them."

[papercrumblingfool]

9.) When he was young the boy watched a girl only a little older than him swallow a rose, the thorns tore up her insides and caused her to bleed in tiger stripes on her legs. He learned that people who eat flowers must be handled with the utmost care.

[papercrumblingfool]

Why must the world give me heaven, like ink stained hands and then rip her away so fiercely? -it doesn't feel real yet.

[meanthoughtscheapshots]

[papercrumblingfool]

Home

You are enough. More than enough. What more can I say? -RED

[papercrumblingfool]

Let me have your fingers

and your soft warm palms.

Let me wrap them in a silk cloth,

and set them in a cream ivory box.

I'll take them home and put them on my shelf,

next to all the stories I have lost.

Let me have your fingers,

and your soft warm palms.

And I'll take them down some time,

sitting on the cold night floor,

lava dripping from my eyes.

I'll hold them, and twist my fingers through their curves,

and when the night grows old,

I'll kiss them sending wishes,

all the way back to you.

Back to you and your,

broken heart,

your heart broken by the world.

By the wasteful hopeless world.

It sliced you with a scalpel,

drug it right across your chest,

and when the life flowed out of you in torrents,

thundering down your abdomen like,

some wild herd of cattle,

or a comet across the ocean sky;

The world laughed.

Heartily, chest pounding,

breath wheezing.

It laughed.

And all the okay turned to thorns

in your blood.

You tried to cut them out,

to cleanse the blood the world had poisoned for you,

but you could never get deep enough,

never slice long enough.

One pain relieved,

only to reveal another.

I tried to understand,

what it was to be tortured everyday.

The smile on your face hiding

a thousand and one new scars,

a thousand and one new pains.

You had always been stubborn,

and even though you were improving,

I could feel the years slip by.

Lying in bed I heard the ticking of your clock.

Every moment you were tortured,

I felt your pain.

Oh, let me have your fingers,

and your soft warm palms.

Let me wrap them in a silk cloth,

and set them in a cream ivory box.

I'll take them home and set them on my shelf,

next to all the stories I have lost.