Inkblots and Paperclips

I want to write words that burn holes in paper like fire.

[zoedevereaux]

It is dawn, and we are running straight into the story, cracked stones beneath our feet and promises wrapped around our heads like halos—we are sleep-tousled and tired and this is the best morning of our lives. It is midday, and we are fighting through the fire, bloodstains and battle wear in all the gritty details. you are unstoppable and your face is split into a sideways slash of bloodied teeth. i am watching you and laughing and falling in love—we cut through the bodies and kiss in the wreckage and after the battle we are drunk on our victory. It is evening, and the sun is setting on our love affair (and our lives) and we are just beginning to realize what is slipping through our hands. we were chasing glory in reckless pursuit and like icarus we got so close to blazing splendour all we could do was fall or burn. the history books can decide which fate is worse—we do not speak of it anymore. It is night, and there is no we, and it is like none of us lived at all. they will not sing songs of us. there will be no statues, no harps, no grand punchline to the fucking joke. it does not end with a bang. the last sentence is a fall of ash not an explosion and the book is filled with gilded lies and the author cries themselves to sleep and we will not grow old together, the five of us, like we planned.

we all know how this story ends

[zoedevereaux]

Sometimes I think that one moment in the sun's light is worth the salt stained sorrow of the fall.

a thought of fleeting glory

[zoedevereaux]

and the bitter truth is when i'm stuck on thoughts of you you're not walking through the halls like you used to or firing arrow after arrow, an adolescent Artemis you're dead on the ground (and all i can do is scream)

you're the dead one but it's killing me that we won't grow old together

[zoedevereaux]

i take back everything i said and everything i wanted to say.

you were always just a bitch.

[zoedevereaux]

i remember when you told me you wondered what it felt like to be the monster everyone fears and i wondered why you thought i was the person to ask

a few years later you came to me and asked me to teach you how to be like me and i didn't have the right words to tell you all the things i wanted to say. i don't think you would have listened even if i did.

about three years ago you sat down on my bed and said you missed when we were close and you stayed there till 3 am and we both tried to think of things to say. secrets or comforts or professions of love but the only thing between us was a crack in the ground getting wider by the day.

two years ago i got sick and you asked me everyday if there was anything i wanted to tell you but i was too deep in the practice of keeping yourself to yourself and you walked away unhappy.

a year and a half ago i still didn't know how to tell you not to be like me but it didn't end up mattering because that was the year you stopped actually asking. 

eight months ago i assume you had some sort of breakdown and laid your heart out for your mom to see and from then on out your bond with her got stronger and mine fell away 

sometimes i wonder if we were always strangers 

[zoedevereaux]

I want to write words that slam like tectonic plates into people's heads and make mountains where there were plateaus. i want to write words that ignite blood and turn it into heady wine, i want to write words that burn like falling stars. i want to write words that become the matches to your flames, and it sounds self-centred and egotistical and fucking conceited but all i've ever wanted was to make my fucking mark and it can be in blood or laughter or war or love and i don't care how it happens, but i'll be goddamned if all i've left when i die is a grave. i want to write words that echo, that resonate, that sound more like poetry than syllables, i want to write words that stick in your grey matter and pop up twenty years later when you're drunk and alone. i want to write something that people fall in love with. and if i can't write a poem to inspire cities, i'll write a poem to burn them down.

[zoedevereaux]

if wrath is a problem i actually don't care

[zoedevereaux]

one of these days my resolve will crack like eggshells and my fist will crack also

into your fucking face

one of these days i'll get tired of waiting and you'll get tired too

of losing blood

one of these days i'm going to start a fight and you'll run straight into the fire

and walk away with a fucking limp

[zoedevereaux]

A Love Letter

let's fall into each other's arms so hard we see stars the next morning.

let's abandon reserve and plain common sense by the bedroom door along with my heels and your shirt.

let's find ourselves in each other, trace road maps and driving directions along the veins in your wrist, scratch nail marks like postcards, marking where we've been and where we're never going again.

let's let the magnets in our centres stop trying to find a perfect match, let's kiss like we have something to prove, let's trade i love you's like hellos—what was your name again?

and at the end. at the end when it's all over and we're lying in tangled bedsheets where i've lost my bra and my dignity. 

when we're staring at the ceiling trying to think of something nice to say and i'm getting that itching again, just underneath my skin, just behind my bones and under my heart and into my soul that says 'come on, girl, time to move on.'

when we're picking up the pieces of ourselves we left on the floor in our haste to forget who we are in the explosion of who we are. let's careen out the door like two meteors bound for two different destinations, let's leave the sparks of initial attraction behind us and forget each other's names.

i didn't even tell you my name. 

[zoedevereaux]

they say don't fight fire with fire, so you fight fire with steel because cold steel doesn't cauterize and you want their fucking blood on your hands. they say be nice, but what battles did 'nice' ever win and if there's one thing about you that's fit for writing is that you never ever play if you don't want to win. they say no one loves a bitch and you guess that's true—they don't love you quite like they do the other girls but no one ever walks all over you like they do to them either. soft things get bruised so you made yourself into a double-edged blade and anyone who touches you gets their fingers sliced off and the word gets out, doesn't it, that you're not to be touched, that your bark's more like a howl and your bite is to be feared, and maybe that makes being the villain worth it. the songs are about the heroes but the villains make their mark. 

[zoedevereaux]

I'm going to be your everything. I'm going to set you free. I'm going to lift you up on iron wings and teach you how to fly. And then I'm going to leave you and break you and your pathetic little heart. I'm going to leave you with nothing, I'm going to shoot you out of the sky, I'm going to chain you up like a mad dog and leave you with your broken heart. And don't ever think I'll be sorry. 

[zoedevereaux]

All I’ve ever caught of her is a glimpse. Blue hair like gas fires in a crowd, the curve of red lips floating through my daydreams between coffee breaks. Even when I’m kissing her, touching her, holding her, the feeling fades as soon as it comes. It’s…

[romeomontragu]

OH MY GOD HOW DARE U I AM LIKE IR BEST FRIEND U R OBLIGATED TO SLEEP WITH ME OMFG UR SUCH A SELFISH BITCH

[zoedevereaux]

why? are you a nice guy?? did I friend zone you??

[romeomontragu]

I AM SO NICE ALL U DATE ALL DOUCHES I AM NO DOUCHE NOW KET ME RELENTLESSLY ATTEMPT TO GUILT YOU INTO SEXUAL RELATIONS YOU DONT DESIRE TO BE IN WHILE THROWING INSULT AT YOU WHEN *EGHAD* ATTEMPT TO CLAIM THAT U HAVE A CHOICE AS TO WHO U HAVE SEX WITH

[zoedevereaux]

wow I must be a frigid bitch to turn you down after all this /nicety/

[zoedevereaux]

All I’ve ever caught of her is a glimpse. Blue hair like gas fires in a crowd, the curve of red lips floating through my daydreams between coffee breaks. Even when I’m kissing her, touching her, holding her, the feeling fades as soon as it comes. It’s…

[romeomontragu]

OH MY GOD HOW DARE U I AM LIKE IR BEST FRIEND U R OBLIGATED TO SLEEP WITH ME OMFG UR SUCH A SELFISH BITCH

[zoedevereaux]

why? are you a nice guy?? did I friend zone you??

[zoedevereaux]

All I’ve ever caught of her is a glimpse. Blue hair like gas fires in a crowd, the curve of red lips floating through my daydreams between coffee breaks. Even when I’m kissing her, touching her, holding her, the feeling fades as soon as it comes. It’s not that she’s smoke in my hands, it’s that I’m mist in hers. She’s so much more real than I am, like I fade in her presence. My dream girl. 

[romeomontragu]

R u sure it’s not a love letter to me? Hmmm?

[zoedevereaux]

i'm not sure if this is new to you or something but we aren't in a relationship god maddy you're hot but I'm not /interested/ in you

[zoedevereaux]

All I've ever caught of her is a glimpse. Blue hair like gas fires in a crowd, the curve of red lips floating through my daydreams between coffee breaks. Even when I'm kissing her, touching her, holding her, the feeling fades as soon as it comes. It's not that she's smoke in my hands, it's that I'm mist in hers. She's so much more real than I am, like I fade in her presence. My dream girl. 

[zoedevereaux]

Drabble Thing #1

He was taller than she'd expected. Sandy hair, cocky smile, letterman jacket, leaning on the lockers like he owned the whole damn school. And obstructing her locker, god. Cora steeled herself. Shoved him to the side."Hey, baby, what's up?"  Gritted her teeth. "Not today, assweed, keep your infantilizing endearments to yourself." He just winked. "Aw, baby doll, you just can't stop thinking about me." He was right. There was no one else on her mind, but him. Him. The first boy she would kill. 

[zoedevereaux]

The Story Continues—PT. 1

Twenty years earlier.

The city of Tazar is less like a city and more like a group of small towns that huddled together for warmth one winter and never left. Squat houses, crumbling buildings, and winding side streets make up the majority of Tazar, though three huge marble mansions cling with long-suffering desperation to the slope. 

It's a oddly shaped city—situated between two red dirt cliffs that stretch into the sky. The space between is narrow, winding, separated in the middle by a sluggish river that meanders slowly down the canyon, so the city is both bifurcated and a strange kidney shape. The city is also on a slope. A barely present incline between one cliff and the other, but still a architectural hazard for the perfectionists of Tazar, and highly confusing for the occasional lost tourist, who cannot help but wonder why a fifteen minute walk seems to stretch the legs quite so much.

The left cliff, now. Tazari seldom attempted the long arduous climb, but on occasion, an envoy or trader's procession from a nearby city would visit in the summer, bringing news of the world to a disconnected people. Spices, spells, and the infrequent child were exchanged at the equinox, and the city would slowly return to normal business. The people of the canyon were heartily discouraged from curiosity, and although one or two citizens went wandering down towards the deserts on either end, their absence was seldom truly missed. 

And the right cliff. Taller, rockier, all together less hospitable, it screamed of emptiness and unpleasant insects, and was therefore abandoned to the elements. As well as the occasional dragon.