[x]

Insomnia and Body PartsThere were
Timeless moments spent between us,
In those instants and hours before dawn;

That time when we traversed
So far away from this
Wretched house and into
The most delicious darkness
Of Andromeda-

That time before our tidal waves
Came crashing down on us again.

I would do anything to
Drown with you.

The softness of the flesh
Between your knuckles, the
Exquisite map of
Leigh-lines
On your palms;

They were like a lullaby
To my sleepy fingertips.

You used
The breath of your mouth
To teach me to close my eyes
And fall asleep.

Your contented whispers and
Observations of the sky
Showed me then how to dream.

I had no id

the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.
you taught me that the cold could be bitter.
and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.

ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with stabbed protruding knives jutting out of us on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?

iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would s

I Hold You In My Hearti. In variance to the stagnant nights
and the starving rains, you are
a country waiting
for the sun.

(You deserve so much more than me
if I only come to this land
intending to leave it.
I'm not a girl worth
living for.)

ii. I know someone
whose heart belongs across the sea.
He has the soul of a star and I know this,
though I do not know him,
not ever,
not yet.

I have buried sparrows with
him, too-tall and big-boned.
He made me believe
and believe but sometimes
I forget that he
is still so much a boy.

iii. Unforgivable
and unforgettable,
I will hold you in my heart.

Remember
that it is never too late for love.

iv. I w

The Caged Bird's LullabySit and stay a spell,
Before life takes you
Away.
I am going to write a love story
Across your lungs
So you can exhale
Sweet things
When you can't
Find the words.

Sing to me
That pretty,
Tragic little song.
The one about how
She broke your name
And took your bones.
I will find each fragmented piece
And clean out
All the maggots.

My dearest,
Your windows are broken,
Cracked and tear-streaked.
Allow me to mend you;
Stained glass
Is far more beautiful
That just a pair of
Empty eyes.

Come outside
And we will dance
In the freezing rain.
We can help each other
Wash off all the poisons
Left cl

AbsurdityTo ponder upon pretty insignificancies
In the stead of heartfelt thunderstorms and
The castaways between tired brain cells
Seems to somehow
Make this ocean a little less daunting.
I've discovered that
The chemical nature of
Willow tree kisses in the wintertime
Is identical to that of
Cloud-watching in spring. It's silly to think
That there is such a thing as inspiration
Located in the spaces between his fingers
Or in the dance steps the wind must take
Over the hills and far away.
I've got
An ache behind my sternum, like
Some horrible, nameless disease, just as the mourners
Who walk the rows of gravestones
After twilight. Though, I cannot
Fill the stagnant air with the scent of rose petals
And corpses as they can. They sometimes
Appear to me as angels
Who have been caught in nooses
Made from petty,
Worldly desires. While they choke
Under the weight of their own bodies, I
Forget how to make his lungs work
And then my heart stops beating.
I think that the
Expanse between the back of my mi

Nighttime Ramblings and InsufficiencyYou drop your jaw,
and you pull words out from
hiding, deep in your throat.
You wretch up a mass of
unfiltered, unedited, reality
because you believe that's what it is
to be understood.

You leave a trail of mutterings
wherever you go
no one will ever want me
it's not enough
and i'm sorry, i'm
so so sorry
Do you remember the difference between
a shadow and a ghost? (the world ends
the day the sun won't shine)

Instead of sleeping (maybe
tomorrow won't come if you
don't say goodnight) you wait;
you will not be remembered, and
that is the scariest part-
you were never loud enough.
i'm s

Autobiography of an Empty EndingYou will live farther
and ingest a world
unaffected by me,

where words wasted on spent breath
crumble like the last crush
presented with a wedding ring,
goodnight kiss to eternity.

You will live better. As if my name
was never given a being, as if it were not
engraved into the foundation of your efforts.
Can you remember the day we gulped dinosaur piss?

That rust-colored wine bottle, an arrowhead abandoned.
A Native American's last stand weighing down on your shoulders,
as you gasped Napoleon's last sigh
of relief-
wind kicked up dead leaves;
red clay, lost wars forgotten,
and clear spirits hoping
to intoxicate.

Once upon a

AsylumYour heart is an asylum.

I
wandered
in
like an anthem-less refugee.

Loneliness is a circle of Hell
Dante failed
To write
About.

You heart is an asylum.
(And I am shaking in its chambers).

deflourgod's
got a thing

for women in white dresses,

legs broken and
twisted

like the knot
of a dead man's
noose

TerminalSometimes I feel as though I could drown staring up at the sky.
The rain would fill me up, and maybe the words that pour from my mouth
Could be meaningful.
I used to think I was a caged bird,
Before I realized that I was just stupid enough to be collecting feathers.
My wings are gone: I gave them away to someone who can fly much better than me.
(He's still trying to figure out how to get off the ground.
He'll get it one day.)
I traded this pulsing thing in my chest (I'm not sure what it's for, exactly) away to a boy who promised he'd love me in the wintertime; I
Await the snowfall with baited breath.
Laying in the bathtub, I wonder
What it's like at the center of a nebula, to watch stardust beget stardust,
Until the water is too cold.
He's got
A shipwreck smile and thunderclap heartbeats
(I break a little bit each time).
Nobody ever told me it was like a disease.

DisintegratingI was never one of the birds,
Just silly enough to look into the sky
And pretend.
There's a man I know; he's forgotten a piece of himself, I think.
He says he can't fold the butterflies anymore.
He's lying, I promise
And I love him anyway.
I never understood him when he said I was made of soot.
The hurricane boy's at my window again. He
Comes to me late at night and taps on the glass.
"The weather is so lovely this evening," he tells me.
I go outside and he trades me his rainwater tears
For all the beats my heart has skipped.
He keeps them in manilla envelopes and hides them
Under his bed.
I've become addicted to the dreaming, to make-believing I'm blind and deaf for a little while.
It's starting to be too difficult for me to tell which is waking
And which is sleeping any longer.
My chronic day-dreaming
Is getting worse. I can't even remember them, and I'm losing track
Of the days.
Maybe if I close me eyes
For just a few minutes more.

Amnesiacsmaybe you forgot how to
wake up without screaming.

she smiles like a broken dawn
and the meek will inherit the
earth, if they don't drown,
first. she's barely breathing;
trying to grow gills because
it's only in the state of dying
that we adapt.

and you won't see the colors
pouring out of her chest, you
won't hear the ebbing swansong
she hums so quietly.

you didn't come to be reminded.

you inject a little further, a little
closer to the heart. numb.

(she died the day she
was given a name)

she made you promise never
to be a number, or a majority;
she made your heart beat in a way
that made you think you were alive,

HysteriaMoon sliver arms raised
to the eventide sky,
hysteria dripping like wine

like a prayer, slipping —
hallowed lips no longer, and

the weight of every loss
and ticking clocks
cracking dappled ground.

SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.

Wildflowers, Imperfect BirdsI breathed your name like wildflowers under vast broken skies, in wide-open spaces. The wind blowing through them spoke of dew and dirt and petrichor, and there was sunlight on the ground like a mosaic patterned by god's own hands.

I said it like a monarch claiming new land: a declaration, a butterfly breath over old earth; like it was coffee on a warm morning with the sun in my eyes, interlacing with my lashes; like it was a dream; like it was a prayer like it was a miracle wrought of air and bone and body: you, in, out, in, out, in and in and in.

I cried it out like an earthquake between lip and lip, continents that don't quite fit: your

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Two Cents and Mirror Shards

by *SomethingOnceSacred, Sep 29, 2012, 9:07:13 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

She wears her worth around her neck
In the form of
A penny
From ninety-three years ago
And rusty locks,
Strung on an iron chain,
Along with broken
Keys that go to
Nothing
She knows of
Any longer.

She finds them, on
Street corners and in forgotten,
Lonely places,
Treating them like
Precious treasures
And long-lost friends;
She hangs them near her core
To try and remember
Where all the pieces go,
Where they all come from.
Maybe one day.

Her window
Is made of a shattered mirror
In the hopes of
Being able to see
Something that isn't on the outside.
She is not sure
Exactly what that is
Yet.

None of her parts match;
She constructs herself
Out of odds and ends
That others have thrown away.
She is cracked,
But,
She would not know
How to fix herself
If she was whole.

She strings up
Old bottle caps and
Passages from decaying books
While she tries to fasten together
Shards of glass
That leave empty spaces
Behind.

She loves them

Because,
How else is light
Supposed to shine through
Without a few holes
For it to escape from?

Two Cents and Mirror Shardsby *SomethingOnceSacred

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

The way I see it,
what's the point of locking up your secrets
and throwing away away the key,
if it means that someone has to break you open to see them?

Lock up those secrets,

But don't throw away the key.

--

Thrown together over the past few hours.

Take it as you will.

© *Cugra

~Sigma-Echo-Seven Dec 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Nice short line breaks, adds something effective to the poem. Well done!

*SomethingOnceSacred Dec 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks very much!

*Amanda-Graham Oct 13, 2012 Professional Writer

Cugra

I didn't notice Love-Literature on your 'groups' for this work

it's lovely work

please submit it there and i'll feature it

Mandy

*SomethingOnceSacred Oct 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh, my. I'm glad you like it.

But, I have, in fact, submitted it to #Love-Literature. Perhaps it just hasn't been accepted yet. I just tried to submit it after checking the list of groups myself, and received a message telling me I had submitted it already.

Thank you so much, though! I really appreciate that, dear.

*Amanda-Graham Oct 13, 2012 Professional Writer

lol yes and i'd already copied it to the featured folder (smiles)

pffttt @ you minimizing your skills

*SomethingOnceSacred Oct 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Gosh, thanks, again XD;

Well, to be perfectly honest, I've only recently starting to submit poetry, so I'm still very much getting my feet wet. It amazes me that people seem to enjoy it so much lol

*Amanda-Graham Oct 13, 2012 Professional Writer

ah it IS there, nevermind lol

*Amanda-Graham Oct 13, 2012 Professional Writer

oh it is there, lol

~little-bird-bones Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

^{so, i've been wanting to comment on this piece for quite some time now. i haven't exactly been able to gather the words i need to accurately express how much i love this.

i need to tell you how absolutely beautiful your writing is. poetry can be read as pretty words strung together, or it can be felt. and this piece has, without a doubt, had an emotional impact on me.

Her window
Is made of a shattered mirror
In the hopes of
Being able to see
Something that isn't on the outside.
She is not sure
Exactly what that is
Yet.

this is my favorite stanza. the breaks between the sentences are perfectly placed. there is that note of hope for the future lingering at the end. structurally speaking, this poem flows incredibly well. i love your choice of words (as usual ;D), but i don't feel like i'm simply reading the words on a digital page. i feel like i'm looking at photographs from a camera that has managed to capture more than just the superficial aspects of you. and you're there, sitting right next to me, narrating the story of this girl. there's a sort of overlaying detached feeling to the whole piece (the fact that you've written it in third person when, i assume, it is about yourself)...and yet, there is a much deeper, much more personal meaning in every single line.

i hope that makes sense ;;

well done, lovely girl (:
never stop writing.}

*SomethingOnceSacred Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh, gosh. XD;

I'm just going to cry for a few minutes if that's okay XD;;;

I am so glad you enjoyed it, babe. Thanks so much!

If I can be truthful with you, as I'm sure I can, the necklace you gave me was the inspiration for this poem lol

I looked down to it and thought, "The penny is like me. It's old, and you can't spend it anywhere, but it's still good."

Sometimes, I feel really detached from everything, even thought I try to be engaged. I think it's some kind of defense mechanism, more than anything.

Thank you so very much again! I'm so flattered something I wrote had such an impact on you! I can't ask for anything better than that.

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