I cannot pretend to write for anyone but myself. This account is for such useless literary prattle.
is my main account.
Syntomeida epilaisCan you hear me calling, love?Syntomeida epilais by everystupidstar
Follow the dying scent of Oleanders
and the flash of red on blue.
I will wait, day flier, for your echoing reply.
If you think she does not love herselfand that your job is to show her how it's done,If you think she does not love herself by everystupidstar
the best way to do it is to leave her alone.
SophiaTe amo...lo siento.Sophia by everystupidstar
I've no words to describe you really.
Save for a fountain of adjectives escaping my lips: linda, milagrasa, et cetera.
Or better yet, a milagro rubia tumbling across riverbeds and into my arms.
Nature does you no justice.
Your hair, corn silk on a summer's day.
Your eyes, robins' eggs flecked with brown and glinting with the last shreds of sunlight.
Take my hand and we'll dance with wild abandon in the fields and I'll hold you close to my heart.
And we'll sway like branches in the wind, scattering insecurities like flower petals.
They'll blow away and you'll blow away if I'm not careful.
So, excuse my fingers on your thigh.
I'm doing my best to hold us together.
And oh, I love you. For that, I am sorry.
Porque me equivoqué muchas veces.
Hope in my Lawyer's Paperclip JarMy lawyer's desk on a normal Wednesday afternoonHope in my Lawyer's Paperclip Jar by TwilightPoetess
is flooded with sheafs of white legal pads and errant staples.
Today is Wednesday, but the clouds outside
his twelfth-story window are shaped like loss
and the lines around his eyes seem crater-like in the shadows
and nothing about the last three weeks of my life
has been normal, so I don't know why it surprises me
to find his desk cleared of debris.
I wait for him in a silence that ebbs and flows with my heartbeats,
the zipper on my knee highs tapping against my leg like rain.
When he returns, hands filled with coffee
and the paperwork for a restraining order
against the man he set me up with almost a month ago,
I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
"There's only one paperclip left in the magnetic jar.
It's bent like a swan."
I can tell, from the awkward shuffling of his loafers,
that he's wondering if he should have brought the Kleenex, after all.
He knows women often cry at things such as these,
reminders of the men they've love
Fragile Magpie MoonsIt's only spring when you first wake up,Fragile Magpie Moons by TwilightPoetess
two magpies and the dull ache of menstrual cramps
tapping on. Death's window
sleeps in all our bones,
a dripping water faucet.
Brittle things--like love,
a jar of not-quite-nothing--
small and fragile and ours
are the presences we carry
while running from the moon.
Come Stop Your Crying, It Will Be AlrightShe says she's no good with words, but I'm worse--Come Stop Your Crying, It Will Be Alright by TwilightPoetess
I threw our rings into a box.
Livin' my life in a slow hell;
one day, one night, one moment.
You know, it tears me up inside
if all of my life, I try and I try.
What's her car doing outside his house?
One devotion to an empty moment.
Sunday morning when the paper comes,
circling her, circling her, circling her head;
listen to her heart.
The walls between her and I?
They've come to witness the beginning.