Prose

Cailleach
My neighbors accused me of conspiring with fairies, walking the street while they dreamt, and stealing or overtaking . They were afraid of me because I was unbound by men in a phased by the worst of winter storms.
By Tracy Kreuzburg 2 years ago in Poets
what i want
I want your arms wrapped around me as we waste the day away. Tangled up in silk bedsheets, in each other, with the sunlight saying hello through the blinds that dance in the wind. I want your hands on my hair, twirling it gently, your fingers dancing down my back, spelling out soft “i love you”s. Your eyes, big and brown, glimmering, as they always do, staring straight into mine, speaking with no words at all.
By daphne gray2 years ago in Poets
In Your Absence
At least, Before I Can see you again, I Do not Expect our Fire to maintain its light. I Go into the High peaks for warmth, peer my face
By Sone Kramer2 years ago in Poets
Abcs of death
Alas the years flew by Birth till now I look back with a sigh Cemeteries cat call me, beckoning me to die Demanding a final dance like a boy at the ball
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Poets
Repair
Here I sit Working as hard as I can Parts squeaking and grinding Everything overheating Everyday they use me Abuse me
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
A Lot of Flowery Words in Failed Justification of Being a Tramp and Sentimenal Narcissist
I hold within me an irrational drive to immolation, to love with abandon and ferver of such white hot intensity that I am disintegrated in its rapture. This need has made me fickle and capricious at times, what can even be conceived as cruel. I have neglected the earnest embers of warm, familiar hearths to spark at tissue paper and underbrush, to burn bright and hot and brief and mourn in the cold ashes of once-beautiful homes and barren fields. This is not merely a behavior that I inflict upon the world but a demon that possesses this corpse and makes a mockery of lives lived too hard to reach maturity, snuffed with too much oxygen, and brittle with carbonization and burnt out lust. I demand unfairly a love that can only see its own glow in the reflection of eachothers eyes, a love that dares not blink for fear of losing its heat to the forgetful night, a love that cannot possibly be sustained with all the fuel of a lifetime, let alone one split between so many lives. My love spits on the rational and dessicates the practical realities of life. It is warm, but it is harsh and dry and defiant and stubborn and selfish and I am it. I have burned everything I have touched save that which is too cool and damp to devour to dissatisfied conclusion. I can apologize, and have done so, to those I have scarred in my impulse, but I cannot stop. I cannot be stopped. These flames lick through bars and chains and fences,and render locks and hinges devoid of framing, for they hunger for an impossible satiation, as do I, and will die without that fevered struggle, as will I. I hold within me an irrational drive, and it is the heart that regretfully keeps me alive.
By D3512 years ago in Poets
Armor
As I climbed inside of you You I thought I became harmless I took up arms Against all that would do me harm I fought every battle I could
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Happy Birthday. Content Warning.
Happy? – you hurt me, eye for — I I guess we were both just kids searching for answers In this mess it's kind of messed up right?!
By Dan-O Vizzini2 years ago in Poets
The Confidence Man
He’ll draw you in Telling you lies Saying what you Want to hear He’ll try to sell You a big hoax Or something He doesn’t own
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Poets
A Lost Unicorn
Sitting here Pondering life All it’s struggle and strife Wondering if any of it is worthwhile Wandering through this wilderness
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
The Last of Us
I see you for what you are The magic you hide from the world A magic that only those pure of heart can see You try to hide it
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Wishing on Paper Planes
I am only as good as the people in the room. I hate that. I will not lift you out of your funk. I will not supply laughter where there is none. I will not be the one to bring the light with me if you want to wallow in darkness. I am only as good as the people in the room. But I want to be better. I wish I laughed more easily. I wish I had dreams. Then I could make plans to get to them. I wish I recalled memories filled with joy when I reminisced, imagining everything my life could be, content with what it is. I wish I threw paper planes with the future scrawled in their folds and competed to see just how far I would go. I wish I could watch the rise and fall of my journey, inhaling and exhaling the way the love of my life breathes deeply in sleep right next to me. The way I imagine he would. And I wish I didn’t wish to be free of loneliness by picturing a fictional you at my side. I wish I found freedom in the single me that I am and balanced myself on a seesaw by having the courage to stand at its fulcrum. I wish I didn’t wither at every unexpected turn but found myself walking on tightropes and falling from airplanes and landing in a pile of adrenaline on mountaintops that kiss the clouds. I wonder if the scale would tip too far if I jumped into the pool before I knew how to swim. But I am still here instead of where I could be. What do the paper planes say? Learn to be free of the people in the room.
By Bugsy Watts2 years ago in Poets