when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
written by "The Thing Is," Ellen Bass (via commovente)
written by Miles Walser, excerpt from “A Sonnet of Invented Memories” (via samsvoja)
I’m kind of afraid our lips will fit perfectly and that you’ll be the death of me.
you taught me to fall in love
with your sorrys, with your
changing face. the heart
speeds up with fear and love
you taught me
to find none. you taught me how to look
into the chasm
how to drink
the poisoned wine. how to stare
into the face
of a monster
and not blink twice.
but I choked down one
too many screams, baby.
now the poison’s leaving
my blood stream.
I don’t want it, baby.
I’m learning how to love properly,
and learning how to stop.
written by l.a.w., Unlearning
stomach turning in three points. a triangle in your throat.
the fading indentation of corners.
a black line. this is the border. feel it beneath your skin.
pull it tight. let nothing cross. count the attempts.
you are a closed country. an internal rule.
the gut as a queen.
I am made of leavings
And of being left.
Analyse me: the running theme is
Abandonment issues, and how they manifest.
I will always hear the lilt
Of my mothers voice in those that ask me
To stay. The hands
That hold mine always have
The nails of my ex lover,
The tears of my brother. My father
there’s no such thing as ghosts,
but I still see things
that aren’t here.
When I look to the sea, I do not see
Freedom, only the ones
Who have drowned in its depths.
When I look to the sea, I will always run.
written by l.a.w., I won’t stay
This is the fire. This the heart
Leaking apologies for what
Isn’t my fault but still
Makes me bleed. This is your silence.
So fuck you,
I tried. And I bled the wind
threw up your favourite flowers,
Stopped swallowing so i would have more
To give you when you looked my way
Again. And I got whiplash
From the times you looked back
And forth and back
Fuck you, I have nothing
To answer to. Fuck you, I did everything
You asked, followed
Is my only source of shame. I bloomed in a forest and you tried
To shape me to fit
In your backyard. And I tried
To let you
And it wasn’t enough. So fuck you
For not letting me cry
When you clipped my branches. You bit off my limbs
and called it foreplay.
All I was asking for
So fuck you,
You couldn’t have saved me
But you could
written by l.a.w., opposite of a love poem
Branches twist into arms
And reach for you, like please
Touch me. It is dark
And we are lonely. We can hold you right
If you want us to. Fronds wilt, begging
To be chewed up into a stringy
Mash and stain your teeth
Green. They only want
To leave a mark on you.
In the night forest, there are flowers
Colours that you’ve never seen.
They only want to be seen. They are the most beautiful
Things in the entire world,
And all they have
There is a lake
Made of darkness, no bottom
Visible. The water laps
At the shore, each wave crying out
Please, just scrape
My surface. Please, I’ve forgotten
What it’s like
In the night forest, there is only potential
In the night forest,
She loves you.
written by l.a.w., the night forest