

when you are sleepingWhen you are sleeping I can touch the warm columns of your pride, the tumbling arches of insecurities and the smile that grows trembling and soft in the dark shells of your eyes as you run in your dreams.when you are sleeping
I gather the sunflowers of your long molten arms in against my body as the sun bites into the morning sky and you give a whistle in your sleep.
stranger of thorns and white milk, will you come to me from the ashes? My goldfish hands cup your jaw and swim through your hair and settle like silt in the beds of your nails.
You wou


I will search out your shapeI will search out your shape-- your parted mouth, the red esophagus, a tongue limp with hunger like the heavy sound of a bell.I will search out your shape
I will find the dust of my skin in the ancient impressions of fingers on your body.
and In the cool stone of your nails I will rest and grow to be the moss that only you can see, the downy hairs penetrating the back of your long neck are tall trees in the Sahara.
We will sleep in one room and share exhalations. Your eyes will be the windows.
and we will keep our secrets pressed between our


I'll not contain youYour legs are quivering bells, my darling-- the bells of a church or the belly of a flower, they laugh at the touch of my hard tongue, but I'll not contain you.I'll not contain you
I'll not contain you, though I found you in the earth, smelling of earth, and your hot weary hands pushed themselves into mine, I'll not contain you.
A thin film of years will grow over your vivid knees and my restless hands. We will hunt our quick lives like packs of silverfish, and scoop them out of the water, like river stones.
I will hold these stones in my hand, &n


beautiful day without youI will drown you, my darling, my dog heart and my moon howl. I will take refuge in your crown of Night.beautiful day without you
If we are to fend off the huge buzzing monsters who flap their jaws at us like old doors, we must give them blood. We must crash together, like thunder and the soft cloud.
And you must kiss me, if we are to survive.


NovelaLike silent prayers and wedding gifts, you pour saliva between my teeth, grip my bones and shake the shine off of the stars. We gave birth to the moonbows of our summers, your mouth quivering and I stutter dreams through chewed-up shoes as we walk through the wheat fields father planted before his death.Novela
We married at the Roman temple, the world silent, swallowed by city lights, the buildings gentle against Évora's breeze, and the stray dogs and cats gnawing the tail of a long afternoon.
'I do'
We echoed onto each other's tongues; shattered a bel


HoneyThe first day it was there was a Tuesday.Honey
Hot, sunny, sweaty, uncomfortable Tuesday. The breeze blew and made things even more stifling. Breathing would have been easier underwater.
“Hey, hey Juan. Dyou see that?”
“Yeah, man. Weird.”
And that was it. No one else really cared. The drone of the bees and the Dog Day sun beat down on the town, and the fence wasn’t noticed much after the two line exchange. Big, black letters written in a child’s scrawl on a metal tag tied to the fence shouted “End.” The tag was the only thing alive in the town; it whipped and clanged and moved with the breeze lik


The Composition of BestowingShe incubates his larvae of words, string them along her hair and wears the novel like a crown of Christmas-jewels: the composition of bestowing.The Composition of Bestowing
Music molds from ears, the pigeons aren't flying anymore, instead, they walk, drink afternoons as if it were tea; clothes hang from thin wires like bags of fat, cleanse the street's perfume from angry men, and a stranger's life is lost for a day's ration.
Knuckles bust, eyes swell, his love is filthier than before and his lips rob the silvers from her mouth, vomit her screams, her moans, his flesh, her soul; he shu
by =MSF-SF
by *celsojunior
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Do I look like a fuckin' people person?
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"And we believed, till nightfall, in our lives."
You ok?
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Do I look like a fuckin' people person?
--
"And we believed, till nightfall, in our lives."
--
"I love you more than my own skin." -- Frida Kahlo
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Founder of =Inked-Page | Staff for *100ThemesChallenge, *ProsePlease | Lit Critic at *devCRIT
May it be joyous.
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I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it is ripe; it will be exquisite by September.
-AVS, 1910
I'm telling you stories. Trust me.
-Jeanette Winterson
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Orion may cry, but never follow after
Far away where, wanderer by wanderer,
The moon lies down with the west water.
--Ted Hughes
CLICK HERE TO FIND YOURS
--
Orion may cry, but never follow after
Far away where, wanderer by wanderer,
The moon lies down with the west water.
--Ted Hughes
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