[x]

medicinegrowing older is a big word for medicating my youth

because i was once wild-eyed

i was once foot-loose

i was once alive with gaps between each tooth

i was once sea dust & cusps of mountains

i was once drinking pennies from fountains

i was alive alive

i was alive

i was alive

i was

& my fingers are dropping

my skin is growing pale

pushing around a child until painfully thin

it's just medicine

each year is just medicine

beari.

there is a bear in the forest. he breathes out ghosts, inhales the most
incredible brilliance - forgive me, i'm selfish about this one
i swear i didn't live before him. he's the loneliest soul,
i wrap my jeweled fingers around his bones because i'm alone within

his skin is pale as aspens
he looks alive in the autumn; grinds his teeth in the summer heat
'don't speak' he'll tell
me. he roams with wild eyes & broken bones, he's

the sweetest hell. he's a cavern in heaven. he's
more human than i'll ever be

his fur is made of afterthoughts & lulling birds
twin stars dangling high above his head
to mask a sound you'd give your life to he

cold windsmoving on is momentary

wisdom is fleeting, & so

bitter sweet

i was defeated by a cold wind

he sucked up my soul within; spat me out

i saw the image of who i truly am, & i drifted back into her

she shook her head "where were you?"

i replied "wandering."

now i know i'm capable of anything

but it's not enough to catch without reeling

it's not enough to love without feeling

& now i feel all the pain i was dealing

willow-sighswhen i was little my hair was to my waist

i wore sun dresses with little buttons, & tiny printed flowers

i breathed everything in slowly, i moved like a doe

into the to & fro of

autumn, winter;

spring centered my

nymph-eyes & willow-sighs

i touched tiny pebbles & the bark on trees

played by lakes & grabbed at the sea

& they tell me it's all history, but i can't bear to

breathe that statement - i can't let them ensnare

who i am. i saw it all, & it's there - still restless

like the earth moving the sand

they tell me to get over it, but i can't

i'm in love with my childhood like a long-lost lover

one cries themselves to sleep over

oh. hi.why don't you spin around, little tree-heart

smile at the stars & scamper to northern grounds

love yourself like lamp lights licking lonesome

blades of grass creating fiery fields

i can hear your voice i can hear your voice i can hear

you now, i can hear you now, they're all gone

mean everything to nothingsat down in a hay field

maybe i'll stay in the warm, yellow, waning

whispers of this land

maybe i'll become the rain, the words

i'll wake with coffee brewing

i'll wake with you beside me, stirring

petals in your tea

i'll weave brown locks through my cashmere fingers

i'll press your brow against me

take off your glasses before you sleep

your beard grew down to the floor, & up grew flowers

around your bare legs - i forget how helpless i am

i dance through the fields in my yellow dress

you watch me with the sky staring down at you

you're still the sparrow nestled inside your chest

bird with a sorrow

love me tomorrow

i can't pret

a river don't stop to breathei still have this dream where i walk into your room
& we're seventeen, & your back is bare
when i find myself finding you there
i pull the curtains from your stained-glass eyes
you're waking up; touching my thighs
& things were so simpler then
when i didn't know where to touch
when i was afraid of your skin
when i wondered if you loved me just as much

sometimes i feel like i have too much of you in me
& it's funny how much of an impression you leave
it's easier to walk when i have perfected running
i don't want to talk when the winter's coming

i don't want to watch myself change
it scares me, baby
you have to believe me
i'm terrified of my

slingshot words.there are a million worlds living in your head
begging to be wrapped around your tongue and released like a slingshot
into the heart of some stranger you may never meet.

almost not there.
                        winter birds
            are spreading
                inside
                    ice laced
                        rib(bird)cages.
            quiet whispers
                        between

starsi pray that someday soon, in a lonesome winter, your bones will cease to ache.
regrets will no longer break your morals like glass figurines,
you will not ask God to pardon your sins.
you will forgive yourself.

i hope, for your sake, that your butterfly-flutter eyes
will only be dampened with tears worthy of shedding.
your glory will shine out of those 2 crystal windows
and you will finally know what freedom feels like.

one day, in the midst of a dreary december, i wish for your wings to open wide
and carry you to heights far past any you have ever experienced.
your lungs will become blooming forests
with snippets of poetry carved into

snow-birdprettiest bird in town

felt his feathers wain, & the rivers drown

baby doll, i'm loving you until

the sun & sky won't spin again - he's

beautiful in his snow-bird skin

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.

001 i am a whirlwind of
bruised knees
(purple)

an aching heart
(dark blue)

twisted guts
(red)

&
a regret that could
crumble mountains.
(green-green-green)

i need to be with someone as sad as mei need to be with someone as sad as me

inertia ridden

soliloquies

of imperfection

i need someone who will drink coffee at eleven am

on their dirty porch, & doesn't give a damn

thumbs bukowski lyrics through his skin

i need someone as sub-human as me

i need someone who dreams about dying, &

writes poems in upper-case letters

i need someone who is so human they're afraid of lying

i need someone who is chock full of morals passed down by

their mothers. someone clinging unto their sunday school shoes,

& singing the blues in the shower

someone who drives by a field of flowers; pulls over

snaps a photo they'll never

'see the same mo

with thanks to salingerAudio version.
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
and smiles
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear

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cellshe kissed the sea with bokeh haze & light leaks

cradled herself to sleep with panorama dreams

when she awoke every thing was blurry

she peers through glass & turns to focus

the sand is with her

the rain is falling

these things come in twos, but they never seem to notice

a single cell

warily singing

carefully, wandering

her soul is dripping with

beads of sweat &

no regret

it's an emptiness: i cannot fit

my tiny hands in his

star dwellerhow stained are my seasons

with forgotten intentions, i must have

loved you senseless

now i'm guarding my heart.

my ribs are a courtyard; you

cannot be shy, darling

you tell me, you're a

star

dweller

you fall into yourself

the space within you is beautiful & broken

i see it fully because it's what

made me feel help

less the first time i saw you

a word for your days growing old;

don't try to take control, little darling

i'm the youngest of souls

. the moon fell in love with the stars

coordinates i'm not talented at

making conversation

i'd much rather lie awake with the stars &

stay quiet to the sound of someone whispering

the coordinates of mars; commenting quietly on

which way the wind is blowing-

& without a hand to hold me, i am

capable of treading sharp streams

let the sand spill over me. i need to learn to

drink deep

& save myself.

i'll never let the world destroy me.

i'm barely visible, & i think it's rough to see

where i have been touched & pulled &

where i bleed. i'm alive- still, i'

jejune simultaneous convulsion

on outer banks we

carve our spirits like swift

drift

wood

i sank

down into irises heavy with eyelashes

watching the dashes across my arms fade

watching the moon take my heart like jejune

flowers & lay them down

to weep in

clay-like snow

i was alive when i remembered my life

& i was fast asleep without a soul to keep me from breathing

without hands to keep me from running

stomp out the sound waves of your last breath

i'm holding out for the storms

step by step

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old songs for a first love

by *hazeltown, Jan 25, 2013, 4:09:42 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

the crow is screaming & the fields are swaying & i'm staying here

old songs for a first loveby *hazeltown

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

~disrhythmic Apr 6, 2013

You've been featured, love!

[link]

~disrhythmic Mar 5, 2013

Lovely simplicity.

^arctoa Feb 1, 2013 Student Photographer

^{A fine cadence, appropriately cut short.}

!travelgirlxx Jan 30, 2013

Perfect cadence.

=Sammur-amat Jan 28, 2013 General Artist

short and bittersweet

~winterkate Jan 26, 2013 Student Writer

Ooh, this is lovely. The brevity works perfectly and the entire thing flows amazingly well.

*0hgravity Jan 25, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I like how the rhythm comes to a stand still with the last line.
the dead silence after the wind has howled.

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old songs for a first love

old songs for a first loveby *hazeltown

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