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Bones"There are good days and there are bad days," you would say to me as you would try and explain away why the whiskey bottle was empty again this morning, why you smelled like her and why you thought it was best to let me know what you had done. At least that way, you were absolved of the gift of lying; the one your bones were too light to lift and just couldn't take, by bestowing me with betrayal.

My mother would bring me an encouraging cup of tea in a giant pink mug instead of a cup and explain, "There are good days and there are bad days." Her eyes were always full of positive energy and strength and good will. I look back to those days and

UndeservedI don't deserve to be an artist.
 I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
 I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost. 
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
 I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
 I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world. 
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.

But I do think I am a writer.
 I am completely, irreparably damaged.
 I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
 I weep over my lost innocence. 
I spend nights

GluttonHis caramel covered fingers caress my coffee skin
An epiphany aged in its own beautiful winery,  
A honeyed breath drawn in a moment so heated,
Its oven like intensity roasting any kind of chastity.  

Irreverently juicy, pleasingly sinful,
Succulently divine in its every form
Lovemaking at its most beautiful…
Moans that echo sheer gluttony.

I never knew passion was edible,
nor lust so delicious in its impassioned call 
Until he showed me why chocolate
is the most deadly sin of them all.

I'm Not the Marrying KindI'm not the marrying kind. 
I have stones in my hair instead of flowers,
And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.  

I'm not the marrying kind. 
My words aren't pretty or wise,
And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.

  I'm not the marrying kind. 
I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder,
And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.  

I'm not the marrying kind. 
Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior,
And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.  

I'm not the marrying kind.R

Drowning in SocietyDrowning in Society:

Cold on the inside...
shivering before the night breaks
I watch myself fall
I hear the devil's call-

He breathes to me, once now, I lose myself and burn again!
He breathes to me, twice now, I lose myself and burn again!

This feeling of the ocean surrounding me
Drown in the oil of vile society
It clings and takes the life right out of me
Drown in the love of vile society...

Break down, constructed
Break down, conflicted
Break down, constructed
Break down, conflicted!

We live our lives in hopes of growing wings
Pure white until they're stained by everything
Leave all that you hope for far behind
Let darkne

LustHis hands have a habit of finding my hip bones,
trailing his river like fingers along my stone smooth skin,
his lips do not move, his mouth tells me stories.

Mine spend their time
tracing the length and breadth
of his back in kisses*

We travel through lands that never existed
before we touched them
At temperatures far exceeding in Fahrenheit

If only we could understand
how lust and geography
make such divinely sinful bedmates.

____________________
* One hundred and sixteen

Rebirth"You won't tell us then? What it's like?"

"..."

"Is it because you have something to hide?"

"..."

"Or is it because it never actually happened?"

"It happened."

"Then tell us. Tell us what is it like."

"I was always the girl whose family asks 'What is wrong with you.' instead of 'What is wrong with you?'"

"And this has nothing to do with my ques-"

"If they had all just asked...I would tell them. I would tell them that my heart was torn into hundreds and thousands. And my lungs were still crushed from footholds. And my brain still sees two little girls laughing and playing. And my legs hurt from dragging myself from basement

After Words"I wish you would give it back to me."

"Why? You'll just break it again."

"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."

"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."

"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."

"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."

"Again, concrete and soul. "

"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."

"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But a

Can I Cut Yet?Can I Cut Yet?:

Hey, Hey Sadako
Hey...
I really want to cut something
can I, can I please?
This girl is talking to me, she seems rather nice
The colour of her eyes makes me think of fucking lice
I want to cut her, I want to cut her so bad!
but that seems to make Sadako really sad...
Okay, I guess I won't cut her

Hey, Hey Sadako
This teacher is really boring
I want to cut him, I WANT TO CUT HIM SO BAD!
I'm in class now, Sadako stands beside me
She points out a mistake I made in my notes
I start tearing at the paper while grinding my teeth
I want to show them my frustration, OH SO BAD!
but that seems to make Sadako really sad..

In ThreesI was armed with half a deck of emotions, two thirds of a heart and eyes of a broken mirror that offered no protection to my soul. I wanted to talk about it often and whenever I needed to, the words would tangle in my mouth, come out as a compliment of a shirt, an idea that had no relevance, a conversation about the weather. I was eighteen. I wanted to be stronger, brilliant, bright like a comet in the sky. Instead, I learnt about how beds could be the most loathed places in the world, bathrooms were meant to be soaked in blood...and men with eyes like knives sometimes used them against people they loved.

I was armed with shards of strength,

Moments"You know what, my love? I think I'm going to give you the twenty third of March."

The little boy looked up at me from his cereal and tilted his head slightly, as though pondering this. Then, he frowned. "Mama. That's not possible. How can you give me a day? Days can't be gifts!"

He got that incorrigible logic from his father. I smiled and wiped my hands on the dishcloth, moving to sit besides him. He was at that age where his eyes were huge, questioning and innocent, that age where pain was sometimes only healed when measured in love. I ran my hand through his thick, dark hair. "Yes, you can."

The spoon filled with milk and chocolate cere

FaithI love your belief in God.
 Not because it matches mine.  
Because it makes you even more beautiful to me.

  You are the dream I always wanted, but never had.  

(God likes to surprise me. Well, consider me surprised.)

It makes me want to sleep every single night by your side.
 I want to wrap my prayers around you.
 I want to press my lips to the segments of your body.  
If you asked, I would rest my head besides yours
 and dream your nightmares for you.

 (You shudder in your sleep. I don't think you know.)

In faith, I'll be your dreamcatcher.
In dreams, let me wis

In Love, I RemainI hold the guitar against me
But I'm afraid it just wont do
No notes that I play could compare
To the symphony that is you

So who is the orchestrator
Of this harmonic elegance
The beauty of which sustains me
With such a lasting resonance

Angels, please sing us a chorus
And paint the clouds so silver lined
May she always dream in colour
And may I always speak in rhyme
One single whispered word from her
Always seems to eclipse my pain
With belief, hope and destiny
Forever in love, I remain

I hold the paintbrush in my hand
Until creative thoughts will cease
But no strokes could ever come close
To your beautiful masterpiece

Ea

A Snowfall CandlelitMy version of winter has always been flawed. It is controlled by the fall of snow and the exact amount of the ground it covers. It never ever covers the tiny little patch in the garden, right near the broken tin roofed shed. I suppose that is why I just like the idea of snow. But I do not love it.

(Realisation: I suppose that little corner represents the only part of me that even I cannot love.)

I met a man with candle lit wolf eyes and a strong, warm lion heart, who tells me Sea God stories before disappearing into a cold, cold winter's morning, fog cloaking his very essence.

(Addendum: Sometimes I think of five a.m. coffee, and wonder if

Cold RazorsCold Razors:

Let it pierce into my flesh
The cold metal of razors
and let me carve into my skin
a wonderous design of love

Love for the pain which I inflict upon myself
Love for the disgusting toxin which I bleed from deep within me
Love for all the people that remind me everyday of how pointless my existence is

Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to say something too?
Did you want to enjoy of this toxic waste?
This nauseating poisonous sulphurous odious mixture of noxious FUMES!

Ah, but you're one of the normal people aren't you
You can comb your hair without pain
You can dye it any colour you want
You can style it in any manner you pl

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What if the reason you are out is because you're picking up someone else?
What if the girl you insist is just a friend is something a hell of a lot more?
What if the reason you looked at your ex's profile online was because you miss her?
What if the conversation we just had was in front of another woman and you both laughed at me?
What if the trip I've taken is a way for you to run off with someone else?
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Words and Meanings

You must understand that I am a writer. I am not a pragmatist. When I say that I love you, my feelings are far deeper and far more complicated. When I say I would die for you, my idea of death is twisted and not made of any form of repentence at all. When I say I would kill for you, it's not just metaphorical or metaphysical murder I speak of.

But when I say I find you more poignant than the moment I stood above Mary Shelly's grave, tears streaming down my cheeks, overwhelmed by the emotions that welled inside my body...then I must find you very poignant indeed.

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City of Light

by *UntamedUnwanted, Aug 23, 2012, 5:08:54 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

You are my city.

Your eyes are the gates,
Your soul is my transport
Your veins the roads I must travel.

You should never ever be afraid
of my knowing you too well.
Or of my being too close to you.

 After all,
 Can you ever,
Even after living your whole life in it, 
Know a city too well?

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City of Lightby *UntamedUnwanted

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This is for you.

Thank you for saving me from myself, my Knight in Black Cotton. I owe you in measures of love, life and ebbs of silken souled hearts.

Sweet and Low in Bright Lights of Beyond,

N.

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Submitted on: August 23, 2012
File Size: 477 bytes

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~symphonyoftheheart Jan 19, 2013 Student Traditional Artist

Beautiful

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~BegginerMay Sep 7, 2012 Student Artist

i love this so so so much.

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~Imperishability Sep 6, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

This poem is beautiful

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~LoliMoetan Aug 29, 2012

This reminds me of the one I love! <3

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*UntamedUnwanted Aug 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

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*TwinAgateDragons Aug 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Very nice....love the style and the message!

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*UntamedUnwanted Aug 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!!

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~LordOfTheRingsFan Aug 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, you are such an excellent writer... and easily relatable. I used to be able to relate to this so well.

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*UntamedUnwanted Aug 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Awww!! Thank you!!

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~PurpleObsessedNinja Aug 25, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I hope the best for you two! this is beautiful!

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