[x]

softenedthe sky whispers,
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.

in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.

and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.

I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.

Mirror, Mirror on the wallMirror, mirror on the wall.
Forgive my vandalism.
Let not a thousand curses fall.

She needed to stop catching colds from smiling at her reflection in pouring rain.
While needing me to be more than her favorite tv show on black screens.
So I came to her, the one she considers the most charming of them all.

And I know it’s bad luck to break a mirror.
Yet these two souls unluckily found each other.
So the glass shall do nothing more than continue to fall.

But mirror, mirror on the wall.
If I must die young,
Tell her that she’s the fairest of them all.

LongingIt is far too lascivious and cruel,
the way the glint in
your unnerving stare commands me to come hither
yet your lips
keep pulsing with isolated, rigid greetings
like you were pushed to a dare of some sort.
But still, I know better
by the sometimes welling that form at
the corners of your eyes
- which you try your best to hide, and
by your ocean-deep sighs that
your longing goes past your matting lashes
and mascara tinted tears.

It is never easy, hiding
everything I desire inside of little words
like "Hello" and "Goodbye" when
all I really want to do is let it out,
set it free, and
chain myself to your everything
with words I shouldn't spea

Overcooked Moments of AffectionSometimes the moments could be too crispy,
Other times they could taste like salt water.
But I’ll always devour them like a starved child.

Because the recipe book in your mind is filled with delicacies.
And every chief cooks up at least one disaster in their life time.
But mostly because I know moments such as these are scarier than food.

So with a little imagination I’ll gobble every burnt platter.
Stuffing myself until I’m a stuffed animal,
And plumber than the turkey at our next romantic dinner.

Dear BeautifulDear Beautiful,

I've been interested in you for a while
But it never seems like the right time to tell you
That no matter how crazy I may seem
I think that you're the most beautiful person alive.

You don't know me very well
And I may not know you as well as I would like
But you've always seemed so perfect
I want you to know that you're my dream girl.

Your voice is soft and sweet
You sound so innocent and cute
Why is it so difficult to tell you in person?
Oh yeah, because you'd probably reject me.

I've become your secret admirer
Don't look for me because I'll be hiding
Just know I'm there and not to scare you
But I'll be watching you with

AirI want to lose myself
in an illogical need
for love.

I want to remember
to forget
how to breathe.

What is Air
if not you?

~I shall never stop loving thee~My powdered lips shall kiss thee through this ever lasting love
your beauty intensifies my satisfaction
O, tis' be you my darling, my one and sweet caressed heart
Shoot a bullet through my skull, tis' only the most dainty way I show thou love for thee.

Thy heart shall never stop beating for thee
He, be this time were I shall daunt my passion for thee.
so soft and abase
how I feel sorry for thee
trapped by endless monsoons of terror
let me hold thee and love you endlessly

Will thy be my lover?
Be my daunty heart?
If thy say Ye, then I eternal happiness shall last forever

Be thy love and I shall take care of thee forever
Never leave thy, The

Warm BodiesNothing around but air to pierce the quietness that surrounds the grace of these lustful souls,

Clouding together with interchanging hearts going along with the musing beats, tones of which

Knock the desolate sounds of blood, coming together sliding back and forth like oozing drips of

Honey such a pastoral scene hidden beneath the charm of the shadows, from which love abides

Like a melody composed of two lovers, only now to see lights fading away, with feelings going far

Away with such perception, what deviant ways perceive as to disregard, and leave only now to

Sleep to dream…..

Visible SpectrumYou reminded me
of a stained-glass window
that sits perched on its wall
beneath my stairs at home.

Daylight doesn't measure its colors,
it only scatters them down
on the hardwood floor
when the sun breaches the
suburban canopy.

And daylight didn't measure you,
no,
I saw you and all I could think on
were your mosaic eyes,
the spectrum of your blush;
that they were solid
and real
and more than patterned light.

I cover stained glass with my hands
and colors vanish.
I cover you with myself
and you are vibrant.

The Mosaic and The Wanderer.Yes this whole has been beaten down, broken now in decrepitude.
Scattered, thrown here or there by wanders kicking loose pebbles.
A stranger strolls and sees a stone to keep for his own collection.
He didn't hear the rubble cry as another part of them is stolen.

That was the day the sky turn gray with a storm of unknown magnitude.
Flooding rain washed what pieces remained into a shallow puddle.
In sediment they settled, put back together by this muddy concoction.
As the day exsiccates a mosaic is made and a soul has been awakened.
A woman rises from the sand to search for a man, and the part of her he's taken.

He loves to stroll and walk alone, his thought always so bestrewed.
Wander, meander where time doesn't matter. He's tired of a constant dribble.
Remembering the trinket he reaches in his pocket, and is startled with a pulsing motion.
Pulling out hi

RozeAm văzut niște roze întunecate, cu spini,
Le-am atins și m-am rănit,
și am mers mai departe...
Am văzut niște roze de un roșu aprins, cu spini,
Le-am atins și m-am rănit,
și am mers mai departe...
Am văzut niște roze albe, fără spini,
și am trecut mai departe...

There Is A PlaceTaste my lips let them consume my lust
There is no one so important than you
Maybe it silly but I believe in second chances
I know the riddles of your heart, the way to keep you smiling
There is a place for us, a place where no others have found with you
There is a door and the sign says “True”
I've tried to tell you love exist beyond me
I know its hard to believe, I've seen you happy
I touched you like no other has
I have looked the other way when you found a bit of happiness
I walked on by with a hint of uncertainty
Can't you see the truth in what I say, seeing our certainty?
There no place for us in the hearts of others
When th

Down The Rabbit HoleHere and now I would flock to you in a heartbeat.
One day though, you’re worried I may fly away instead of to your rescue.
So clip my wings and drop me down the rabbit hole.

Put my loyalty to the ultimate test.
Just don’t let the dreadful hole land in Alice’s Wonderland.
Instead, drop me in the dungeon with in your mind.

Leave the dungeon’s exist doors slammed shut
But make the keys worst hiders than I am a seeker
While allowing me the choice of you or my freedom.

Display all your secrets as a piece of loot.
While lacing the good in riddles for me to solve,
And drenching the dark in booby traps for me to disarm.

Le

Waiting for JuneIt is almost the time to fall in love again
down the flowing grace along the stream that follows the lights
towards the dissolution in the sea of newborn shapes
shapes begotten of this season once more:

Silhouettes of young lovers against the bridge in the early fog before the dawn
the softly spreading colour against the world willing to shed the gray
the upturned corners of the mouth by the roses that will blossom soon

You can sense the liberation
feel the weightlessness of breathing as the heavy air has passed
every step has tenderness and meaning
every night is soft and boundless
and every time the breeze calls us to dance,
we fall in

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More from ~blackdahlia911

sometimes better means being alone
she's attracted to guys
who swear too much and the ones who wear too much cologne,

there's something about the brassiness of those qualities
that drive her wild,

but more so, it's the men that smell like charred firewood
and dried meat,

that's what really does the trick.

she likes the guys
that are like the salt at the bottom of a pretzel bag,

the ones that keep her guessing
and the ones that say they'll never leave her but do,

she feeds off of that raw empty stomach feeling that
causes her to pick at her scabs and sleep in too late,

it's that kind of sedation that leaves her motionless,
because of course she'd never really

when the sun goes down, i feel the need to let go.I'm laying on my stomach in the middle of the living room,
feeling the sunlight embrace my energy and grasp my printer paper skin,
I can see Sunday's satin sheets swallowing my knees and joints below my waist
and I don't want to just lie here, then roll over, and take it;
I'd so much rather be wearing a pair of unbridled hips,
pulling off the rubber bands that hold me to
tension headaches and knotted muscles.

There isn't enough time in the day,
so what am I doing here doing something that makes me so unhappy?
My memories, my breath, they have all felt restrained for far too long,
like they're being choked by my own pleated collar

empty teeth and angel spit
They've got guys with strong jaws and
guys who can spit fire through their
toasted lips.

It really is all about the mouth,
teeth and gums,
they're dripping with saline solution
the color of moths wings,
transparent and broken and lightly veined.

They've got blood the color of butter
or maybe bleach,
it's all the same when you're satisfyingly
enraged and filled with such anger it
consumes you.

It replaces rosy cheeks with dark shadows,
bittersweet smiles with bitter, blank faces.

Then you think of those elegant shoulders that
unfold like white rose petals,
highlighting the scoliosis of the spine,
allowing daylight to c

Summer Shoulders.
There's a gentle humming of bees licking our ear canals,

the sun feels hot,

we hula-hoop like hippies,

we wear our hair braided down our backs like thick ropes,

our bodies slowly embrace the lake water,

but we go slow because the rocks press against

the palms of our calloused feet and the pain almost feels good,

the stones push against our gravity bound souls,

yeah, that almost feels good.

There's a quiet rush that douses us with goosebumps,

the clouds feel calm,

we press dead fish against our thighs,

we feel whole because the summer fills us up,

our bodies become planted under the ocean,

but we can stretch up through our seaw

singing along with the wolves in my heartfor some reason i feel like i can't reach my
inner insanity;

it dwells in the space
between each half of my freshly severed heart.

it's that deep void where
life can feel death breathing down her tender neck.

it stems from a place with passionate colors
where dinosaurs come in baby blues and
lust radiates off the skin in a smoky crimson.

it is the gap between two plush lips
where rainier cherries spill out all of everywhere
making vomiting seem almost okay and beautiful.

it is all that and everything else,
and for some reason i can't feel that
deep ache burning beneath my chest
which made me feel so
alive.

i guess i coul

the sun encourages the insane
Swollen lymph nodes in a swans neck;

Enticing little devils with sword-sharp beaks;

They could swallow your frayed ribbon veins like

angel hair noodles.

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Submitted: September 1, 2012
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Tender

by ~blackdahlia911, Sep 1, 2012, 11:31:00 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

_{i am
a taxidermy fawn,
existing yet comatose,

my soul flickers within a lantern,
releasing a smoke with the scent of
pheromones and vanilla verbena,

but your necromantic whispers
linger in my ears,
so sweet and succulent as peaches,

animalistic instincts
give me breath,
filling my lungs upon a full moon,
oh i'd so like to take a bite of you,

you and your jungle bred lips,
tropical to taste,
organic to kiss,

jaguar, leopard spots
cover your skin
in patterns painted by the forest,

then a low, throaty growl
slips from your jaw,
haunting me like a past mistake,

but you are wild bamboo
and the sound of my heart beating,
palpitating against soft winters,
pulsing with the rhythm of summer,

for some reason you suit me
in all seasons,

and like gravity
you hold me
down,

so no, i cannot escape you,
for no one can bypass
an autumnal equinox
or an eclipse of the sun,

you only continue to
kindle the flames
you used my wooden ribs to make

and i truly love
that searing sensation in my gut,
because if i'm going to burn,
i'd want you to be the fire
that drew my skin into ashes.}