#no rhymes

[plumblueflower]

I wrote a poetry again!!! Reblog, Like, Reply, if you like it!!!!!

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

I am nothing but the thorned stem of

a deflowered rose, petals strewn

over a wedding bed that was heavy with guilt,

And a crying bride who wished for death.

I am the crumpled scrawlings of Shakespeare,

the words too base to be printed,

so they burned in a fireplace,

As he turned his attentions to the Capulets.

I am a syringe skittering across asphalt,

The cars passing by over the bridge,

A high tapering off slowly into,

a pounding, shameful ache all over.

I've no more tears left to cry,

Whatever leaves my eyes next, will be tinged red

I have no more rhymes left in my words,

They were all lost to please you.

[betsydobsons]

For @percyprotectionnet poetry week! <I>alone is the heart so the soul cries out, Together is the mind yet it can only whisper, When given the chance to laugh and love again, The heart cries harder when alone forever.

[knifecuts]

it used to be a storage cupboard, this room, you say It makes sense. Bird-murals on the wall stare down with beady eyes.

The room is just enough to fit your bed and my armchair.

Through the night, my legs are trapped in ache. the light of the the main room glares through the hazy window. the thermal throw-blanket wraps around me, thin and baby blue. my neck bent against the armchair's side the night is punctuated by the occasional wail of baby. I wake, wipe the drool from my cheek, then drop back into fitful sleep (there's a woman in my dream, and parts of her is missing skin. I watch her insides wobble and flex, her heart contracting, and she grins at me with black eyes.)

A baby caws, and I wake. I look over;

You're contorted in your sleep. knees bent upwards, they repeatedly flop over and hit the side of the bed, or the wall. you groan in discontent - and again, your knees bend, pointing upward, like you're at war with sleep. like you won't let your body rest.

(My bird, asleep in flight)

we walk circles through sun and rain, under starlight, or neath the haze of streetlit clouds, and we wander the winding passages of spotless bright rooms.

the woman who visits us today slips up her words. she says arent you going to be moved elsewhere? your expression drops, your body tenses in fear what the fuck? you say. I'm being moved?

I reassure you, and we go back to our routine our routine of uncertainty, of not knowing what comes next, or when. our routine of dragged-out days and nights, of the gaze of nurses, we pluck fallen branches from the sidewalk, I bring flowers from the destitute gardens outside to make it more homely, I say

The ward is empty at three in the morning we sing, using the branches as microphones You take medicine, crinkle your nose at the taste, I laugh and say you did well.

Making you laugh and smile made it all worth it.

I want to protect that happiness, I want it to live on But I can't.

It's okay if you don't forgive me

For lying, for saying You're not being moved, don't worry. For the soft laugh, for uttering the words, Of course we're going back

It's your birthday in a week You ask for the cake from the movie Coraline, where it reads Welcome Home

when I have to leave you to the hands of another adult, I make a joke, and the corner of your mouth smiles. I wave, you lift your hand.

I don't know if I'll see you again.

[knifecuts]

His heart was restored once more, by the pearl you’d selflessly bestowed, slotted into the hollow of his chest - Jealousy scorches your lungs, and moon-pricks etch against the skin of your arms; This was not how the story was supposed to end.

(But once you’ve plunged to the bottom of the pool Resurfacing seems so tiresome - )

The claws that once battered you away soften in her presence; the two of them sit close, her singing erupts in peals and not only does he endure it, but he appears content.

She wears fine cloth, a beauty with beach-sand skin, Their sides touch, and he doesn’t even act like it burns.

(You retreat into the hollow of your shell, and thought you’d played it right: you’d reached out and mimicked kind words, offered your all and more, bore yourself on your sleeve, whittled down to the white of flaked bone, reduced to naught but marrow-dust.)

Their tenterhook friendship spurls finely while they’re out of view, they share jokes you’ve never heard, weave words in a way you don’t understand no matter how hard you try. And you may as well be underwater, because you can’t see anything but smudges and shimmers beyond the fat teary mess.

(You’re no more than algae, after all, ensnared amidst plastic offal. You’re twined and coiled, ugly against crumpled cans and bottle caps, heaving toward the golden twinkle of pearl-light above)

And, as you’ve been told, this is not how the world was written you should be banished to the abyss, you shouldn’t be here at all, you shouldn’t be wearing this skin;

because everyone knows plucking the pearl kills the oyster.

(one more chance, you bubble. the waning mirage, the world             beyond the waving barrier, it’s a muffled tear of fantastical vagueness, so close, you lap at it with all your being.)

But then she tousles his hair, and he smiles in a way you’d never seen before and you recoil, shrunken back into the murky depths

You disintegrate, and it’s painful no-more.

[knifecuts]

Black reflections of sharks in the cold green pool in the dark pool-room, the stagnant night outside I swim hurriedly from the mirages, I sit with you on the edge, (I remember your face in the dim and I weep. I don’t understand why, I never do with you) But you were nothing short of unreachable perfection, an ash curtain in low light eyes and hands always learning, soft and dry like fields untouched and an expression I urgently try to understand (Your words were comforting, but I’ve forgotten them)

In the dream weeks before you smiled at me amidst bomb-fall; the sirens are no longer a drill In the orange blush of day, your eyes glistened like basalt I couldn’t even finish my confession, as your mouth twisted into a knowing smile: “I knew, I always knew.” Hurried words, happy words; but the pitter-patter of explosions echo heavy We were going to die for now, but I knew you loved me.

[megaronii]

The love I have to give

Weighs on my shoulders,

it is insufferable.

Others do not want to breath it in

in fear that they might pop.

I want to give my burden to others,

They do not want more

than they can hold.

Though it makes sense,

For they do not hold as many burdens they can give me,

compared to the burdens I actually want to give.

[fightingtostayfierce]

Erase

I wish I could take back every piece of myself that I’ve given to you. I want to scrub from your brain every memory about my favorite candle scent, or which songs create goosebumps on my skin What my biggest fear is What fills me with so much joy I am unsure what to do with it all. How desperately I wish forget yours, too. You don’t deserve to know me that deeply. I want it all back. I want to completely erase you.