five weeks before you broke my heart, i had this dream where my father stood in front of me. two generations lost in close-knit shadows, facing the other in the midst of a nightmare & staring deep into the vortex of each other's eyes.
in a rusty voice, he recited to my face every lie he's ever told.
his childhood, the seize, the running, my mom, his misery.
in the rhythm of his words, in the flow of his lies, his lips began turning black.
Lie after lie, his lips, a shade d e e p e r in the obscurity.
turning my back on this show proved useless, as my neck was stiff & my legs, knee-deep in thick soil.
stare & listen, while tears water the ground
i tried screaming, as to suffocate the torture of his words with my own shriek. but my mouth was sealed closed & my hands, disloyal to my commands.
i woke up a fountain of cold sweat, sobbing.
....
two nights before we murdered our love in cold blood, we met for drinks at a bar à vins. the gleam in our eyes yelled to the entire world how traces of ancient grapes ran in our blood. god were we playful while life was onto us.
sneaky little romance
we talked about it all that night: gravity & flying, friction & fire, language & riddles. for the 500th time, you corrected my pronunciation of the letter u. & in the stretching of your mouth, i fell victim to the evident art in your beauty; jawlines dancing in perfect rhythm; an enigmatic symmetry traced in your face.
on our way home, we walked the streets as if sidewalks were made for peasants & we had just been crowned kings. laughing, stumbling, holding onto each other.
in a deserted street, you wrapped me in your arms while murmuring in a secretive voice:
i love you
we both smiled.
& under beams of moonlight, while my eyes hunted for your eyes, i noticed red wine had stained your lips black.
- @skinthepoet
I couldn’t quite comprehend what betrayal was, but suddenly with your knife in my back - betrayal has never tasted so bittersweet.
j.b.r - 17.05.16 (via lucid-vissions)
Do you ever realize how badly you’re going to miss a moment while you’re living it? Like wow, these are the good days. I am here and I am happy and I feel alive.
Unknown (via sunsetquotes)
I pray you are what waits To break back into the world Through me.
Tracy K. Smith, “The Speed of Belief.” (via literarymiscellany)
My friend makes me a mix CD and it’s the only thing that will keep me both grounded and above ground for the next few weeks. But, I don’t know this yet. Right now, all I know is that I must’ve walked through a fist fight in my sleep – I have the bruises, the bloodshed, but none of the glory. All I know is that I am a week of my worst days doused in gasoline. And somewhere, someone is standing with a matchbox in hand, waiting.
A.Y. // STARTING FIRES (via 2wentysixletters)
It is cold in this thing we call a body. / Who will tend to the fire with so few hands to go around?
Alison C. Rollins, from “Skinning Ghosts Alive,” published in Tupelo Quarterly (via lifeinpoetry)