with a measured glance-- carefully, now. you tread softly among the roses and lilies, entranced by beauty; enthralled and bound to an ideal the pair of us could never recreate.
still, you pay it homage. from your cautious lips those words have meaning; a feeling I can't share. I respect this, too. but I cannot make it mine.
your words are a labour of love, soft and elegant in a way I can't help being.
a way I don't want to be anymore.
I want to tear this fucking world apart. to rip tectonic plates from beneath my feet and hang them next to the stars-- to send the sun careening into the core of the earth and force the entire planet to glow more brightly.
to bask in extant brilliance won't make me happy. neither does pulling open my ribs and letting snowflakes land on my heart;
but the healing will.
from the right angles, you're beautiful. that's not enough, and I'm sorry: but I want to convulse under the weight of a hundred other lives, broken and reckless and smiling. I want to find the fossilized footsteps of gods in old riverbeds, far away from here, and puzzle out what my life means.
it's probably me: I want to see you turned inside out, agony on display, because how else could I communicate? the only language I know is that of faltering hearts, aching to be understood; of violent storms locked away inside my lungs.
it tastes like acid on my tongue: I don't love you. I wish I could---
but you're content dreaming of escape, night-whispered plans you discard in the light of day;
& I'm going to take my useless words and shake this fucking place until it's ashes at my feet.
Author notes
true story. i can't help it anymore. i'm a mess of emotions, everything i feel is too strong. happiness, fear, love, exhaustion, whatever, it's all superlative.
and i needed to get this out before it ate me up from the inside. he'll probably never know, & i think that might be okay with me.
the title belongs to oscar wilde. i'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray right now, it's excellent so far.
A contest entry
- The acoustics of a Collapsing Star. by PaintedParisPassion.
700 points, ended September 15, 26 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
thoughts? honesty, please.
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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it's probably me: I want to see you turned inside out, agony on display, because how else could I communicate? the only language I know is that of faltering hearts, aching to be understood; of violent storms locked away inside my lungs.
oh my.
that's pretty damn incredible.
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I want to tear this fucking world apart. to rip tectonic plates from beneath my feet and hang them next to the stars-- to send the sun careening into the core of the earth and force the entire planet to glow more brightly.
to bask in extant brilliance won't make me happy. neither does pulling open my ribs and letting snowflakes land on my heart;
your poems never stop amazing me. I wish I could have even an eighth of the talent you have. You're so amazing. This was beautiful. -
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<3 thank you!
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"I want to tear this fucking world apart. to rip tectonic plates from beneath my feet and hang them next to the stars-- to send the sun careening into the core of the earth and force the entire planet to glow more brightly.
to bask in extant brilliance won't make me happy. neither does pulling open my ribs and letting snowflakes land on my heart;
but the healing will."
... Quite possibly one of the most grand things I have ever read.
You are an amazing writer.
I can't believe a ton of people haven't commented this yet.
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oh wow, thank you! =]
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sjkdfhlkasjdfh
amazing.
i dont know what else to say.
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