emama

be the love all your tomorrows start here

[sappho1996-deactivated20181230]

i can see my dad’s veins ripe through the side of his face sometimes i think he screams to hear the sound of his own voice or cancel out mine i like the way you don’t threaten suicide on family vacations you said your greatest fear was becoming a bad father i’d kiss your corpse but if i saw you clench your jaw i think i wouldn’t love you anymore

[unmaskings]

[saltmother]

nice sounds

the crackle of a crisp packet balled up in a fist

piercing the foil over a strepsil with a fingernail

the hushed sinking of a fork into cheesecake

the rattling of a metal fence in winter wind

the buzz of a lightbulb

[backshelfpoet]

Back home, the girls are not soft — they pit peaches with their teeth, drink sadness like they’re starving. They always dance alone, listen to songs with lyrics about strawberry wine. They blossom like beer bottles, wear october on their shins, split open, screaming — a foreign rose just aching for a fight.

The Girls Back Home | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

[davispierre]

slinging stars, 2011. alysha by davispierre

[backshelfpoet]

sext: you are the night sky, the ocean, the atmosphere. you will always be too much, i will always want all of you.

[saltmother]

you can have the portkey to my heart :)

yui!! ( * blushes profusely; holds cheeks; giggles happily for a thousand years. )

[saltmother]

umumummum

[saltmother]

brief apology for inactivity ; ~~ ;

[saltmother]

i'll do the 4 other hush things after i've done a bit more work oxox

[saltmother]

Hush

10 ( "It was a mistake." )

One step forward, two steps back.

The divorcing progress had been grim for the young chef since day one -- it was long, tiring, confusing. The paper work didn't make much sense to her, but as a couple they hadn't had many assets, so Ema had assumed that surely, dividing what they did have wouldn't be confusing. She'd been wrong. Painfully wrong. He didn't want to part with any of it, including the girl herself. His wife, his property. 

They'd all met; lawyers, people with fancy names and fancier pens, sat down at a glass table and talked for hours.

He looked right through her. 4 hours in one room and he couldn't spare her one concerned glance. The woman he was fighting for, so passionately, was less interesting than the low buzz of a fly. It made her feel tiny. Used. Paper thin. Even more so being on her own (Ema had never liked airing out her dirty laundry for the world to see).

But they hadn't seen each other for years, and he couldn't say hello, couldn't return her timid greeting... She hadn't expected the exchange to be so cold... And the violent shake back down to Earth broke her a little.

Again.

It brought on a round of self loathing. They'd shared vows, a marital bed, a home. She'd let them do that. Use her. Wring her dry of all remaining mental youth. Angry tears, balled fists, that she held in until released in the privacy of her box room built up over the day. How dare she let him influence her, still, when he wouldn't even give her the time of day-- How dare she get so upset, so crushed, when her spouse of 13 years refused to separate, refused to cooperate and let her break free. Refused to let her know a world without him. 

Why was she still crying over him?

Why couldn't she take off their ring?

Stuck in a cycle of wet sobs, she didn't hear the door creak open.

"It was a mistake."

[saltmother]

closes eyes.

[saltmother]

"hush"

2. ( "I lost the baby." )

her narrow shoulders shake with grief but her sobs are soundless, completely mute. her head refuses to lift itself out of the frail and pale hands cradling it, fingers pressed down onto her eyelids.

ema is in a fetus position, struggling to breathe.

what looks like it used to be a sundress is a mess -- light cream doused in dark red... the ugly blotches are spread over her crotch area, testifying proof, a silent monster. everything feels rough. the harsh lighting of the night light, the worn down sheets... everything feels cold. she's shivering against the coolness of the night, even though her cheeks are hot... she's cold. stone cold.

she can't splutter out the words but manages to hiccup baby on the third try. that only brings on another round of fresh saltwater sobs. 

[dreamcatchercassidy-archive]

Your muse finds my muse curled up on the bed, crying. Send "Hush" for a 1-35 generated response to why.

Read More

[saltmother]

icejjfish lives on

[fables-of-the-reconstruction-de]

What if I told you each time you whispered my name it felt like a door I could place a hand against, feel how warm it was, as if the world on the other side, yours, was the one on fire?

Jon Pineda, Coma (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

[saltmother]