a sunset blister[pops] overhead, dripping security. she kisses her lover and leaves with splinters in lips. there are moments when she swears she can hear a breath rattling somewhere within his reciprocating chest she swears in vain
and sometimes it's like they recycled an old day, it fits the same and that is an alarming halt to progression- she says, we have to move on
but she doesn't ever leave, feet buried under years of promises and plans and anxieties. she's had a bird cage by her bed since she was a little girl (begging wounded blue jays to escape)
the day won't break, he watches her sleep uneasily, respiring like coffee in the morning is not a guarantee but a guillotine. he watches her rise and fall and the day won't break;
shadows linger on the porch and hide between pavement cracks, waiting, for the time when she says she sleeps to leap into his palms and discolor his sludgy veins
he smiles, too, crooked like a fence about to fall. his eyes aren't attached, they are black. he smiles.
and she sings, but only when the moon isn't watching, of adventures and heroes and redeeming dawns and also about how she has to pick up dinner on Tuesday
he never hears, he left his ears back in a time when he really cared. he just looks on, black eyes, and nights are pink, too, when she sleeps restlessly breathe in breathe out and the moon isn't watching and the day won't break
he says goodnight and she cries so softly even the angels stop to weep
What makes this hit that certain bruised and aching spot for me is the repetition of "the day won't break". I mean, everybody always tells you that life goes on and tomorrow will be a new day... But what if not? What if this time we wake up and everything will still be the same - and we are caught up in a glitch of time, where the twilight lasts, and the 'redeeming dawn' never comes... on one hand this is a very scary scenario, but on the other hand I remember times in my life, when I thought it should be just like that.
This is the cord this piece strikes in me, and again you succeed in expressing sentiments I didn't even know I was feeling so strongly about. YOU ARE AMAZING!
Well - It's kind of embarrassing erupting in such spontaneous emotional statements when talking about a poem if you got it totally wrong, so in case this piece has a totally different meaning, please hide this comment...
I'm actually quite glad you picked up on that. I had a minor storyline floating underneath this piece, but there were a few messages I wanted to stand out- and that was one of them. The inability to escape repetition of your own life. I'm so very delighted you picked up on it and even enjoyed it
you are so incredibly sweet! thank you for such a thoughtful comment and for being such a wonderful person.
To be honest, I included those lines because of a song I'm in love with~ "so like some hybrid mother slash lover she'd soothe and heal his wounds- kiss them dying ears so softly that the reaper stops to swoon"
Well, I wouldn't say you screwed the idea up as much as I'm not entirely sure what the idea is. There's so much imagery in it, I have all of these pictures flashing through my mind as I go through each line, and it's kind of like wading through sand, but each grain is vibrant and different and I'm trying to take in every single one of them but I'm overwhelmed by the all-encompassing, blinding beauty of it. I can't quite see the forest for the trees, here.
Once again, your first sentence in the description--"Concrete feet and bruised smiles." A lot of this poem makes me think of abuse, an unhealthy relationship, something they both want out of in one way, but are unwilling to part from in another.
Nope, that was exactly it. That was my experimental part of the poem, aside from a few mentions, I tried to be really discreet. I had my own message, and I wanted to see if that came through with other people as I told events and not emotions. But, yes, you hit the nail on the head! I'm very happy about that, thank you
REALLY bad for being
AWOL from dA, the
partially for my
again, but this time
for real ;n; In any
case, I hope this
suffice for my
leave.. :points: 300
wandering in the
a beautiful letter
written by Sergio
Larrain in 1982 to
his nephew, who had
Larrain where to
begin to become a
and foremost, you
have to have a
camera that fits you
well, one th...
Little thing called
Talent"My name is
Marc, my emotional
life is sensitive
and my purse is
empty, but they say
I have talent."Marc
talent means the
skill that someone
has quite naturally
to do something that
is hard, a high
degree of ability
that a person was
born with. It's
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More