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Literature Text
I trap secrets
behind onyx teeth,
creasing my wrists
with your melody.
You spill truths
from incandescent fingers,
rejoicing (lamenting) companionship
through chrome power lines.
We swap batteries and candles,
hoping we light each others' ways
while still stumbling along our own.
I get too trapped
by my life's natural disasters
to remember to celebrate
the close-earned commodities
that spill into yours.
(I want to take this moment
for the thoughts that rot to frustration
on my tongue, but this should be
about both you and me.)
I want to cradle your dreams
in my palms, the way you steady
my fears in yours. But I bleed your heart
with my (self) hate, and a deeper connection
drowns in the eddies.
Will we get there? Time
is unmoldable, and it marches on
whether we (I) prepare or not.
But you make me forget it,
if only for a Skype 3 a.m. hour.
behind onyx teeth,
creasing my wrists
with your melody.
You spill truths
from incandescent fingers,
rejoicing (lamenting) companionship
through chrome power lines.
We swap batteries and candles,
hoping we light each others' ways
while still stumbling along our own.
I get too trapped
by my life's natural disasters
to remember to celebrate
the close-earned commodities
that spill into yours.
(I want to take this moment
for the thoughts that rot to frustration
on my tongue, but this should be
about both you and me.)
I want to cradle your dreams
in my palms, the way you steady
my fears in yours. But I bleed your heart
with my (self) hate, and a deeper connection
drowns in the eddies.
Will we get there? Time
is unmoldable, and it marches on
whether we (I) prepare or not.
But you make me forget it,
if only for a Skype 3 a.m. hour.
Literature
the only time
i say baby there’s too much weakness
we bled god to death like a dried up felt-tip pen
it is time to find another excuse for our shortcomings
but when your gutter vessels shudder
under pockmarked blotter
it is guilt
underscored in red
-
this vibration
don’t
the sellotape the tear duct
the paper knife
the whip of risk the bodies at your feet
the every inherently senseless sacrifice
couldn’t satisfy this
-
i say there’s nothing to apologize for
but sometimes
the yellow in the sky feels dated
as i walk away
Literature
butterflies.
I dreamt about your
hands again last night;
one sat politely on the edge
of my waist as you pulled
me tightly against you,
your fireside warmth
leaving me lightheaded
and breathless for more
of your tender touch--
I woke up with the bitter taste of regret
sitting on my tongue
but I brushed my teeth and started my day
hoping
that i’d forget the feeling of your fingers
on my skin but the butterflies
that you left
t r e m b l i n g
in the hollow spaces of
my belly stayed,
even as day turned to
night and I felt the tug of sleep
at the corners o
Literature
It's The Distance, I Think.
It was sitting on our kitchen counter-
Brown glazed and curved, like her-
Perched next to the microwave.
I thought it would best hold
Her spatula and my two bamboo spoons.
She filled it with yellow tulips and
Pink carnations and hydrangea blossoms and
Told me to "Get your own spoon vase"
With bells in her voice and
Her cheeks dimpled and her eyes crinkled,
And I wrapped my arms around her waist and
Punished her back-sass by tickling her ribs until
We were a jumbled mess, strewn
Across the tile floor- with flushed cheeks and
Not a worry in the world.
These days, the curved brown jar
Sits next to my stove top and
Holds my two ba
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chromeantennae, this is for you. 
This is my entry for the Bestest Friend Contest by IrrevocableFate and DreamingAutumn.
This is my entry for the Bestest Friend Contest by IrrevocableFate and DreamingAutumn.
Bestest Friend ContestCONTEST IS NOW OPEN!
BESTEST FRIENDS ARE AWESOME.
Right? RIGHT.In celebration of my bestest friend DreamingAutumn coming to visit me, we've decided to host a contest!
The premise of this contest will be simple, write something to your best friend! It could be anything! Maybe you want to write them a letter telling them how much you care, or a write piece dedicated to them. Maybe you want to write about your favorite memory, your silliest moment, or that time you both laughed so hard your sides hurt because one of you did the Six Little Ducks Dance from Barney. ANYthing!
© 2014 - 2024 haphazardmelody
Comments22
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This hits me hard. I can relate to it in a way I can't describe. I'm almost crying now ;w; it's beautiful and has so much feeling, I'm falling in love with your writing with each poem of yours I read c: thank you for writing this <3