[x]

mosaics.sometimes unique
is not loud;
or bright, alive and raging,
possessed of a hunger for the atypical,
up front and too close,
or thrice-pierced and drenched
in the rebellions
particular to the latest generation.

sometimes it is a girl with
mouse brown hair and eyes
the color of weak tea,
who stands with her schoolbooks clutched
to her chest, in uniform shades of grey-blue
like the midmorning autumn sky

who has a wide mouth prone to nervous smiles,

pale lips and pale cheeks
and words that don't always come out
the way she means

who holds the universe
in the intricacies of her fingerprints
and laughs in treble clef notes
and u

Harvest MoonThree a.m. moonlight
across lazy dust motes; a
tree scrapes the window.
Your arm weighs on my hip like
whispered promises of love.

Hubris.today
we're younger
than we're ever gonna
be.

i. and we finally did it,
drove to the mountains
watched meteors
and let the mattress
grow damp
under our love
under the stars

ii. there are things to
be reconciled

iii. my eyes sting like
chlorine, but from
crying,

I finally disappointed
them;
the highest order of shame

iv. but you cannot put
people into pockets;
good, bad
don't mix
with them

v. and I cannot choose
who I love

vi. your lenses are straight,
elite and proud
mine, open and accumulating
filth

vii. maybe
I should run away more often,
we never talk like this

viii. and you have to realise
that I live in

compareeins.

you were

the smoke pouring out of her mouth,
(misty coils of a vague filth,
dancing to noir jazz, fading with each note)
smudged lipstick on the side of of her mouth,
and the little streak that crawled to her tooth
when she bit her lip in a supposed wonder,
and her eyes threw a faint film over themselves,
(like an elegant lady wraps a silk shawl around herself in a light breeze)

zwei.

you had

the light feet of a dancer
whose calluses were hidden under tight shoes,
whose toes would arch like Nut over her children,
(and she or you would spin with the earth, holding her frame as if-
as if earth was something of mass, as if

IfWe can
draw lines and give them names
like elements
as they are discovered

Or etch into our skins
this soloecal desire
until it is impossible to tell
where words stop
and life begins.

I would

Find a common rhythm that includes
you in my arms, my hands
and lungs and thoughts
tracing the outline of you
entangled with me
colliding like two lost particles
locked in a shared gravity
drifting through the vacuum
of space.

I could.

Exhale, and
remember
sentence structure.

for unseeing eyesladen with sky
we stumbled
and painted mockingbirds
on loveless branches
folding in our slender limbs
and ducking under our own
voices, fidgety and frail
against the wall of night.

between the dipping blades
and drawn shoulders
we learned to craft our words
steady-soft,
a drumming rain
that carved canyons
in open hearts and
drew the sunshine to
our supping lips.

keen-eyed, we watched
remembering the weight
of unseeing eyes
and scalding remarks
and we learned to slip
the noose-knots and slide
through the soul-cracks
and somehow
build kingdoms under
upturned noses.

with lyrical uncertainty
and tender determinat

mutethings have been easier
without words &
we pretend neither of us care;

we stutter
splutter
laughing and choking
on puns &

when you bend me over nouns
i scream

louder
growl
more fluent.

the words are there waiting to be spoken

me . you . love

my dear, we've been mute
for so long

speak to me.

the man at the ticket counter.the man at the ticket counter told me
he had never sold a one way ticket before
and i said why not
to which he replied,
because people need to believe that
they have someone or something
to come home to

i scoffed at him,
well i guess i have no one
but he just stared at me
with lantern eyes
until by some ungodly urge
my bottom lip trembled
and i spat out the words
no one here cares if i return or not

he was silent as he completed the transaction
but his forehead frowned at me
and his implied pity became unbearable
to the point where
i snatched the ticket from the counter
without so much as a backwards glance
even though his eyes followed m

WanderlustI've been sleeping with my jeans on
and seatbelt unbuckled,
So I can leave early
before my regret wakes.

In the check-in, on the road,
I distract myself
Walk, go, leave
go further, leave again
I like my life
Oversimplified.

I never meant to break your
working-class heart
(steady and warm)
But truer ways of joy I found
on the road,
in long railways and stranger tongues
And I'm sorry that we never
Quite catch up with each other.

I never loved goodbyes,
but I love leaving all behind
In the movement I found tranquility,
easing for this burn.

Don't think I'll be able
To ever forget you, no

You're like Venus in th

earth circuitAnd when the sun sinks, the earth's skin crawls:

I.
I wonder if this awkward creature would notice me the way I notice him.
He's so tragic at his throne
I stare after him longingly.
And yet,
He never realizes that I'm the one
Who forever basks in his brilliant beams.
If only he knew how much brighter he could burn
[with me]
He'd light up the universe.

II.
I heard him speak of thirst, once.
The quenching lust of the stars had run dry.
So that night, I brought along a jar of acid.
(And how it gleamed in his glow).
I handed it to him, wrapped in taffeta ribbons,
screaming
I wish curdling joy
On my gurgling boy

SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.

You were still birdsong then, and thunderstorms, and your bodyheat melted the frost claws that held him tight. You held onto him as his November deepened. When he howled, you howled with him, and the wind played with your voices and pressed the softness of your lungs against your cageribs—and then against each other's.

November became solstice, and

Lightning Bug CosmosI lace my skin up like a corset, peel back the blinds on my eyelids, and take a step forward, waking from the poppies to the
lightning bug glow of truth tapping on my eardrums.

In front of the mirror I stand, but what I notice is not the awkward crook of my nose or butterfly lashes. I look into the lighted mirror as if searching for answers hidden under
Ribbon-like sets of
veins, arteries and nerves.

Sometimes it all flows correctly; sometimes everything becomes
knotted up in all the wrong places. Skin toughened by beatings brought about by the

summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
i. summergirl,
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
surefooted smile.
ii. you have grown
so fast.
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
perched treetop,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
summergirl, th

the four faces of the year.i.winter was shy,
never had much to say
and stumbled over dirt
because she only knew
how to walk in snow.

she wrote in cursive
but spoke in chimes
and her cheeks were
forever the color of
a weathered cabernet.

she only loved once
and when she did,
she lost her heart.

you see,
the boy used her
in the night
and left her in the day
and she was content.

she resolved that
beautiful people
deserved more love
than herself
and were therefore entitled
to take love from those
who were less worthy.

(she loved a boy
who would never love her back.)

ii.his name was spring
and his voice dripped nectar
into the ears of virgin

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

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More from ~momo-madness

simply green.green is the color
of tree huggers
and four leaf clovers--
the shade
of the leprechauns
that dance over rainbows.

it is
the tint in the eyes
of the jealous through envy
and the pigment
in our nature that colors
our world
with something of smiles.

but green
is more than i gave it credit
and now it runs through my
hyped-up veins
like uncontrolled lightning
through helpless conductors.

only this time
your irises
are the lightning
and my heart
is the love-struck conductor--
and you melt me into
a liquid passion
that drinks like a liquor;
( strong,
powerful,
and incredibly hard to resist. )

but then again
who said i

eyes closed, heart open.i close my eyes
and my humming eyelashes flutter
to a time where my smirking irises
rolled to the nostalgic sound
of your gravelly chuckle.

i close my eyes
to your self-assured stride,
sauntering through my mind
and leaving trembling nerves
with each footstep you imprint
on my buzzing brain.

i close my eyes
and imagine your fingers
gently clasping mine
like the way the sighing ocean
clings to each granule of sand
before releasing it
into an open tide
of pooling affection and desire.

i close my eyes
and see your bliss-filled gaze
touch me with stardust and angel lips
and suddenly i can see the world
through the eyes of

smiling eyes.dear you and i,

we sit so close, but yet so far
and i fidget wildly in my seat
waiting for you and your emerald stares
to set my heart on a love-struck beat

framed with lashes of angel-hair
your gray green eyes read like a book
and page by page i work to decipher
the detailed translation of your every look

but the more i try, the less i learn
and i'm lost in a sea of thought or truth
yet just when i think i've figured you out
your eyes sing old while retaining their youth

in fact, there's something about you that's strange
something otherworldly in that perfect gaze
hidden galaxies in your crinkling corneas
and sighing stars t

the art of breathing.air.
it's everywhere.
it leads
a life of its own
perverting our privacy
with gusts of
heightened sensations.

those moments
when i lie in bed
and the curtains are drawn
and the stars wink
their knowing eyes at me--
that is when
i leave this flesh and bone
of mine
for an endless trance
of breath and dreams.

puffs of carbon dioxide
silently seep through crooked teeth
as i sigh
to the sky
and the arbor trees
that sing to me in return.

faint whistling
of noses
and gentle snores
of the restless
play an orchestra
of strange melodies
that puzzle my tongue
as it sways
in my slightly parted mouth
to the tune
of content

1,008 paper cranes.
my name is mary ann.
i was born to be a burden,
and a scapegoat.

brittle bones,
and fallen feathers--
spider-silk whispers
entangle what's left
of my decomposing heart

i fly with concrete wings,
i sing in rasps of ballads
that latch themselves in my
parched throat
until i choke on my own saliva.

and
all you said
and did
and done--
it hits me over the cranium
and i sob with something unreal
something
i had hoped to never feel.

lucid lies
sobered stares--
pierce me in the small of my back
and the blood bleeds braille
in shiny scabs
that spell out
my
fairytale-that-met-cruel-reality.

i am a book
of torn pages

the evolution of love.we brushed fingers in the third grade.
you in your red sweater,
i in my skort,
and you looked at me with those gasping eyes,
utterly shocked by my bold move;
yet i could see scarlet blush
creeping past those
freckle laden cheeks
and then you laughed
and i laughed
and that was the end of it.

we held hands in the eighth grade.
i remember
the tentative look on your face
and that shy, hopeful smile
i loved with each tremor of my heart.
i remember
the way my head nestled perfectly
in the crook of your neck
and the way you held me like
tomorrow was just a far off universe
and it was just us two stars
dominating the galaxy.

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if only, if only.

by ~momo-madness, Sep 3, 2012, 9:57:47 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

_{i.
we drove nowhere
and we spoke a language
that nobody understood
underneath a foreign sky
blanketed in the scent of pine.

ii.
you told me
my eyes were like envelopes—
because they were always
opening
closing
fluttering to the sound
of breaking seals
and ink stained fingertips.

iii.
i told you
we should run away
to a new land
with new faces
because
i was enamored
with people i had never encountered
and places i had never gone.

iv.
you laughed at me
and said that
if i didn't spend
so much time with my head
buried in world maps
i would realize
that i was living on one.

v.
i remember
it rained that day
and the tea went cold
but the wind kept whistling
blue skies are coming
and i sighed
if only
if only

vi. our film expired in may
but time replays it in my dreams
as a flock of birds
head north in the sky
(if they can move on after summer
and gather their souls
then maybe i too will try.)}

if only, if only.by ~momo-madness

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

_{i'm not really sure where these short stanzas are coming from.}

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-11-06

if only, if only. by ~momo-madness in the suggester's words is minimal, poignant, and beautifully written. ( Suggested by *disrhythmic and Featured by ^NicSwaner )