I find poetry
under my nails
and
behind my ears,
prose spirals
down the drain
after a long,
thoughtful bath:
the kind
where you don't come to
until the water's long since gone
cold.
that's no earthquake, it's just my trembling lips by daybreaksmiles, literature
Literature
that's no earthquake, it's just my trembling lips
I am
a battlefield
on a fault line-
desire on my tongue
and indecision
stuck between my teeth
-what words will my breath carry
when the land buckles
and parts?
i know a girl made of mercury;
silvery-white and iridescent,
she is her own liquid constellation.
she knows a broken love
but it does not mean she's broken.
it does not mean she's broken.
she is quicksilver against palms, blink
and she is already through your fingers,
but she makes me vermillion,
she is not broken.
i know a girl who thinks herself as ruined,
but i've seen her gentle hands forge and
her brilliant mind create.
there is nothing ruined about a girl
with a heart too big for her body.
after all, only the beautiful
think they are ruined.
she calls herself a caged bird
but songs s