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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
December 20, 2012
fumes by *KaitForest powerfully enforces the words through the image, rather than the image through the words.
Featured by Nichrysalis
Suggested by AzizrianDaoXrak
Literature Text
the talk
wisps of smoke tangled in my voice, strangled along your chest; tonight we spend our seconds deliquescing our desires into wicks for flames yet to be lit, and still i dare seek the fumes pressed in your stare- gasoline for my lips to infuriate the stagnant caliber that is your wish; dare for your fingers to ignite me the ache in your moans to align me a constellation in your mattress; i wait for you to covet
your wants,
but you
a candle in the night
re-
of my
heart
unfurls,
your wants,
but you
and i flicker out;
a candle in the night
waiting to be
lit
Literature
Don't Talk To Me
"I'm sorry," I said, and meant it.
She nodded, her expression unfathomable. "Me too."
There was a long pause.
"Just two days ago," I said quietly, avoiding her eyes, "we couldn't even be in the same room without going for each other's throats."
She turned away. "Yeah," she admitted. "But look at us now."
I continued, "And just two months ago we were the best of friends. But look at us now." This time I looked directly at her, smiling mirthlessly.
"But look at us now," she
Literature
Undressing Poetry
She clothes herself in poetry,
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A sing
Literature
for unseeing eyes
laden with sky
we stumbled
and painted mockingbirds
on loveless branches
folding in our slender limbs
and ducking under our own
voices, fidgety and frail
against the wall of night.
between the dipping blades
and drawn shoulders
we learned to craft our words
steady-soft,
a drumming rain
that carved canyons
in open hearts and
drew the sunshine to
our supping lips.
keen-eyed, we watched
remembering the weight
of unseeing eyes
and scalding remarks
and we learned to slip
the noose-knots and slide
through the soul-cracks
and somehow
build kingdoms under
upturned noses.
with lyrical uncertainty
and tender determinat
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this style is amazing and so are your words ^^