#prettypardy

[darlinngninawrites]

Silence is never absolute but I lay my head on your chest and with your heartbeat the world goes  mute. Spouts of rulers can never reach us in the nebulous heights we rest on. Lover of mine, child of the sun, I fall into your benevolent open arms when I am weary. You are the home I've never known. You are the featherbed on which I rest my bones.

There is a world outside I am missing on with careless disregard laid so freely here perched against your satin skin. You and I were cast up in abstraction, molded out of riddles – materialized only in the bravery of our paces.

Come with your eager, tender lips. Come with your hands that are equipped – mapping, tracing pads that outline every inch. Come kneel at the heels of my body that is an alter. My body which offers sustenance and redemption. Bring your body as an offering to my body that is a starved and yearning beast. Lovers in sacrilege. Let us partake in this unholy ceremony. Let us dine. Let us feast.

[darlinngninawrites]

The years ease not the letting go, the tearing flesh. No absolution follows thereafter. What parting does, what it becomes — a grip without a hook, a lathered slope arriving at a valley, the hollow in between. The shape of lovers diverging, mild and serene. And the noise, perpetual noise. A never ending presence, ominous and blinding. Undo the hem of the feverish dreams, unfurl incertitude. How little of the self brings the night. Its sharp elongated tentacles brushing against the psyche. Of cowards and dust, of royals and beggars — the jester conjures a tragic tale.

[darlinngninawrites]

Where is my beauty? Whereof I had witnessed plastered on the crystalline surfaces of my quarter. Where lies the immaculate likeness of the eyes which subtlety bewitched my mood?

I awake to the realization that all mirrors have been shattered. Therein remains only the proverbial memory of a once axiomatic truth. Shall I then like Narcissus seek my reflection in the sumptuous waters of a river? Shall I bare the entirety of my trust towards self confidence?

I beg the heavens, courage upon my weary spirit. To face the crowds endowed with doubt.

This shall be my curse: to rely solely and begrudgingly on the words of men – on the thirst-filled  gawks of strangers. For without self-reliance I shall appear taciturn and weaponless towards their derision. Unable to rebuff, I shall slowly wither. Wondering from now on and forever: Where is my beauty?

[darlinngninawrites]

Spring is a breeze carrying memories. Liquid recollections. 1995 in grandmother's farm learning of herbs and spices. Your first knife cut in the kitchen table. A kiss on the wound by your mom which made it all better. The year you learned of death. Your first pet dying in the garden amongst blossoming bluebells.

Spring is the smell of an early lunch at ten in the morning. Carelessness for the hours, a wish carried aloft in a dandelion seed. The nauseating smell of chilled pavement after a night of raining. Buzzing bees toiling away in the garden– the preamble of a heated summer

Spring is sunlight in your eyes at four in the afternoon. Tangerine skies tinting your face. Your lover's mouth left ajar at the sight of your grace. The sensation of an inkling looming above the haze of a moment to remind you of the season's brevity. May the coming year arouse the same feelings.