is like a
teamcaptains replied to your post: anonymous said:Most of you’re wri…
i rly like your writing ! just keep doing you c:
omg tysm!! im blushing, luv ya.
Most of you're writing.... I don't get it? I want to like it but I literally don't understand lol. No hate tho =D
lmao… idk what you want me to say exactly ummm wish i could help BUT if you don’t get it, i’m probably not writing for you anyway? imo.. tbh.
Poems are never just poems. They’re compensating for something. Here are the words I wish I had written in crescent-moon bite marks down your neck. Here are a hundred words for “stay,” and a hundred more for “please.” Here is how I hold a pen. Here is how the pen holds me. Here are my thoughts, over-steeped in empty fervor. Here is nothing and everything all at the same time.
I have been an ashtray
of desire for boys
with calloused palms.
I have been a prayer
left unsaid. I am here
nor there—I am the light
that surrounds you.
Your father wanted to name you
after a wet season
he wanted to explain
why the rain falls;
just so that it can taste your skin
dip into your collar bone
drip down your shoulder blades
and on rare occasions when no one
is looking and your head is tilted back,
rush into your open mouth.
Warsan Shire, Poem to Self and Other Insecure Women
Your human body
is a terrifying place
to be sometimes.
When you stand
in the middle of my name
shoulder-deep in the river
weaving in-between the sounds.
When you turn my name on its side
to climb up the rungs
to put your ear down on my cheek
even though my teeth
have been clacking in your pocket
since your mouth first held my name isn’t
something to chew on but your bite
feels more like breath, a necessary
imploding bloom. When you reach up
in my name & pull out a bouquet
of flushed cheeks. When you shiver it
to shatter & scatter it to grow seed
on my skin. When you tear out
the rearview mirror in my name.
When you pull the moon down
to get a closer look. When you shake
all the ache out of my name.
When you flip it on its back
& lay out its legs. When it sails
over your lips it always sounds
like the first time my ears
ever heard it right.
Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.
I fox ‘heart’, striking a modern breast
hollow as a drum, and ‘beauty’ I taboo.
Making love with you
is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
the thirstier I become,
until nothing can slake my thirst
but to drink the entire sea.
Kenneth Rexroth, The Love Poems of Marichiko: VII
My mouth is a fire escape.
The words coming out
don’t care that they are naked.
There is something burning in there.