[x]

raw collection of poemsand i am missing you
and i am fucking
with you
---
when you climb into bed, think of me. the
rosary that downs the bottom of your
drawer is a silly reminder of what i had
taken from you
---
cold
ice cold and his
fingers
ventilation;
i was warm
---
i look at myself and i see lines
impending on themselves
bending from the weight of my soul.
i am heavy
i am middle-afternoon
and-you're-still-missing heavy
and i can't uncurl myself
from the telephone or the
idea of you
leaving
---
we work like polar
but i swear to god i was meant to
meld with you;
you go north
and i south,
departing
thwarting what we built
between force fields
---
i look at my self and i see lines,
cracks in the mirror
all down my thighs where you
broke me in two
i will come back together
one day
(only to be
split back a
part by you)
come home, come
home, come
back
---
i need early morning
i need lack of sleep
and i need the cold
curling me
to my soul
just to stop
the world siphoning the
air from me
---
i am not doing

ropehang me from the moon,
i want to be beautiful

infectiousi find myself
reusing the words
my father once
gave to me:
i am a useless bastard, you
deserve so much more.

verbatim, i sing
along the string
of my vertebra--
the vortex that
scatters you to
the floor.
i was not born
a beast, but born
of
and grown.
leave me.
i am not your lover,
i am your cancer:
with me you
will be carrion cast
onto the lawn
by morning.

Iwhen the grey wolf
comes striking at my door,
i will strip him of his cloak
and make him
a man,
naked

a hospital bird with soot in her lungsshe slept through a car crash
that almost killed her,
through whitewhite walls
and dreams
where her lover dies
nobody thought she'd make it
but she woke up a few months later
with flowers in her hair
and ash in her airway
trying to remember how to start all over
but forgetting to remember how to live.
fall slipped from her open eyes
and winter crawled in for a long hibernation
of not-quite-cold-enough-for-snow
to her the clouds looked sick
and pale like they might
let everything inside them out,
but she opened up wide instead,
spilling blood where there was none to be spilled.
her heart slipped down the street
and with unsteady hands
she stitched in a bird and cut off its wings.

copaceticyou know when the person you love and
you decide to break up, and you both say
to each other, you both agree that you
will be friends. and you think it, for a day
a week even, and he is still texting you and
you are still texting him, laughing like you
would do when you were one. and then you
meet his girlfriend at the mall, some butter
blonde bitch whose decolletage busts out
in peach ovals and she can't even tell you
how many guys she's fucked or let alone loved and
your boyfriend, or your lover who no longer is
yours is smiling like he has what he has always
wanted, all that is not you, and you become
bitter and backbitten and say something rash
and laugh and he gets it but his bitch doesn't
and then the next few weeks you are quiet
and he doesn't seem to think of you in his
experiment. you become an enemy and you
watch him from a window on your laptop
every move every suggestion every shirtless
whore make a common thing out of something
that was once undeniably yours. a

summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
i. summergirl,
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
surefooted smile.
ii. you have grown
so fast.
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
perched treetop,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
summergirl, th

Take me homeyou live in me,

cancerous white noise,
high tide of danger.
you consume me,

oceanic burial ground,
reddened memories,
love-making stranger.

matteri've been 19
for two months
and here is what i have concluded:
even though
your body has become the
woman your mother always
was, the
boys still don't
notice
unless you're bent over their bed frame
calling them god.

on hearts and how they beathe says it like
dropping a stack of plates.
the plates are his heart
and i am gravity
and i am the earth that catches
them and scatters them around

by association.don't shoot the messenger
she told herself
but her aim was unsteady
and the wind blew her off target
they were all rotten anyway.

unlovenot all self harm comes
in the obvious form of lines up arms or down thighs
of throwing up insides and self worth
into toilet bowls with the sounds
that make you wonder how you're not dead.
she picked at her lips constantly
cracking and splitting
peeling and bleeding
it stung
more than expected
and it bled
more than ever anticipated
even after she's been doing it all day
she drank her tea that was still steaming
still made her hands flinch from the
far too hot porceline
but she parted lips
and felt it force it way down
burning and splitting
her lips and throat
before settling
like molten in her
ash filled stomach
tiny fingers
pinching, squeezing
pulling on skin
making underneath it
burst
and bloom
her blood like water colour
exploding and spreading
and mixing over
thighs and stomachs
no-one thinks to notice
the bruises
they're accidental
right?

drift.it was dark
and i was struggling
with an angry ocean
in head
and heart
you stumble home
sink beneath the cotton blues
and stop the waves
from breaking
quite so much
enough to
sleep

stinging.lover asked me about the purple
that curved and stretched along
my legs and thighs
bold and bruised against my skin.
i told him
'they're stretch marks'
he ran his fingers along them
and felt them raised
and smooth
but some were rough
and still sore to the touch.
but he didn't question.
just kissed them
and told me he loved me.
he doesnt need to know that i tore myself open
over and over trying to find
this feeling and tear it out of me
he doesn't need to know that.

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More from *KaitForest

note 27grace me like an eagle
does the earth

note 26bwe are all coffins,
waiting to be buried
in

note 26aforgive her;
forget her; take
her to your
grave

brotheryour voice has depressed
like the karst out front,
pitted and wounded.
the other day i was guiding
your hand around the first
letter of your name,
the slants that direct
attention in repetition,
confusion-
'w-'
tailed by lines
hacked as if in a cell with
only your nails and numerals;
stroked like a match
for light
'-ill-'
(mother had a clever way
with pinning words to our
tendencies-)
it was easy enough
but you were never skilled with
easy.
often times
i would find you with the double-
you fitted between your teeth,
the ill all that would be left.
and now, i see you've
found yourself again, unguided. there are bodies
in your bed and they seem
to know you well
enough, reminding you
that your letters are all still
there, and you collect them
in her voice
like hymns of belief.
brother, older,
you're a man-
the substitution of the alphabet
at your fingers in forms of
lace and brunet frills-
even if for a moment.

note 24i tried to forget you
but you were there, lingering like
smoke

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~Lottie-Girl May 11, 2013 Student General Artist

Beautiful.

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*KaitForest May 11, 2013 Writer

thank you<3

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~Lottie-Girl May 11, 2013 Student General Artist

Welcome

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Mood: Tearful

~unborn-flower Mar 14, 2013

*crack* that was my haert btw

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*KaitForest Mar 14, 2013 Writer

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*UnspecifiedUnknown Feb 9, 2013 Writer

^{my heart}

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*KaitForest Feb 10, 2013 Writer

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=Wordeea Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

gorgeous

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*KaitForest Jan 29, 2013 Writer

<3 thanks

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~winterkate Jan 26, 2013 Student Writer

I love the word glissando. The ending of this poem is sublime.

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