#re-bumbleblossom

[soulreserve]

Winter-Long

Winter's cold is curled like a lick beneath underneath the beating heart. Like a hand of a stranger on my shoulder.

Your name is the white breath I realease from trembling lips. It escapes from me and into the dense air that carries cold with a purpose.

Loss is a constant companion, it doesn't fade with time. I watch it shiver outside under the burden of heavy snow.

What does it know of warmth? I let it slip inside, and sit by the fire. but little by little it takes over. It creeps below,

leaves my body damp and aching, swamped by run-away thoughts of you. And cold settles like a tickle in the lungs.

© SoulReserve 2023

[theluciddragonfly]

It isn’t death that frightens people, but rather the concept of no longer existing.

TheLucidDragonfly

[bluestthingsonearth]

going home.

[heartweary-writing]

Maybe I should have gone to you

In January, when the cold

Rang in the earth’s bones-

Shaking,

Shaking

Shaking you unsteady

Your heart heavy

Your mind ready

To unravel.

Yes, maybe I should have gone to you-

Even if you would have gone away,

Anyway.

J. K. L

[4sss]

My heart strings may be a little out of tune. So long it's been since they've been used. Still I want play a song for you. A melody for my muse.

J.c.A

[abrighterspark]

ever loud, ever lively

the river flows below

bubbling with the brook sprites

laughing, light and low

[sike-n]

A man walks into a bar

And asks the bartender for a drink

Put it in a glass or a human body either way they are one and the same

The man stands before the glass stands on the counter

His hands holds the glass holds his drink

Then the exchange

Mouth open the glass lets go of all that it is

Mouth open the man seeks to forget all that he is

Lets go of the glass

The glass tumbles

He stumbles

The glass falls

The man is down

Glass splinters glitter on the ground

Stars hidden by the man on the moon

Who has fallen off his throne

Not quite responds the bartender

As he sweeps what remains of the glass into a dust pan

And he commands the man to stand back up

[ho1y-water]

it can be clean like this,

crystal gaze through grass blade frostbite in rainy december.

his lips finding my cheek like a cat finding its warm bed

over and over and over

and over again,

curving to fit my body,

curling around me because he wants to.

love means: even though you aren’t doing so well right now.

they are outside smoking

or else

talking puffs of speech

thrown away forever.

i like to pull my own feet out from underneath me,

get sick and tired of sleeping in my bed,

go back and beg for forgiveness

but really

begging for kisses.

i sometimes wonder

about that other life i once had,

the ashes of which blew away with last summer’s fires.

now i can stop faking

and take my pills

and forget.

[signed-thosemeaningfulwords]

Such a beautiful lily flower I see blowing in the wind. She thinks she blends in with the mix but little does she know he thinks she stands out quite a bit.

Oh, she’s definitely the one he’ll pick.

Little lily flower, you may think you’ve been picked and discarded by the previous which leads you to feel as if you’re wilted and unwatered, but my beautiful lily you must be repotted because to me you’ll never be forgotten.

Oh, my sweet lily you will only forever blossom.

I will tend to my garden you’re in as if it is the garden of Eden. You’re sacred with such an intoxicating fragrance.

Wherever I go, I’m followed by the comforting silhouette of your remnants.

My lovely lily, you are life itself;

Fragile yet so beautiful.

You’ve taught me the importance of life, we may be poked by others thorns but that will never remove the vibrancy of our petals.

Little lily of mine, I pick you.

Whatever color you are or may become, I take you as you come.

So, Let me see you blossom.

Signed,

ThoseMeaningfulWords.

[n1mmii]

you feel like poetry

 it’s 4 am,

it’s just you and me in the entirety of the universe.

everyone else turned into clouds,

now they're falling as rain.

i wake up in your arms,

just how i fell asleep in them.

i feel you breathing,

i feel your heart beat against mine,

i feel you dreaming,

i feel your hair tangled with mine.

you keep me so close,

so close that our souls almost touch each other,

so close that your skin feels like mine,

so close that we might not even be different people,

so close that we might be one.

your voice,

your goddamn voice.

the haze in your voice,

the way you say the words,

the way you carve those words in my soul,

you have no idea about the things your voice does to me.

you’re in your olive green sweater,

i’m unclothed,

but i’m not cold,

you’re all the warmth i need.

i slide on top of you,

you caress my hair,

your fingers tangled with them.

you don't fight them,

you stay there,

tangled, 

with me.

you, feel like poetry.

you’re smiling,

the wrinkle on the corner of your eye,

the soft dimple on the corner of your lips,

you kiss me, 

you taste like cigarettes.

davidoff cigarettes, the ones you like.

i place my hands under your sweater,

i can feel your body.

i close my eyes,

i take it all in,

feel it in my soul,

then carve your scars onto it.

you’re looking at me,

looking at me feel you,

your eyes are partially closed,

but your smile, 

baby your smile’s so big.

you, you feel like poetry.

your hands touch my waist,

go straight up to that deepest point,

they stay there,

mold themselves in me,

decorate themselves around me,

like they belong there,

like they’ve found home,

“please never leave.”

“i want to sing for you” you say,

“i only have one heart, please have mercy on me” i say

 with my hands taking your sweater off.

you sing “sunsetz” by cigarettes after sex

my heart skips a million beats.

my hands tremble,

my soul quivers,

just at the sound of your voice.

your hands are so big,

i would fit just right inside the palm of your hands.

you’d carry me,

you’d take me home,

you’d keep me,

you’d look at me and say that you own me.

it would be an honor,

beautiful beautiful boy,

to be owned by you.

because you,

you feel like poetry.

[thesilentgazer]

1. I am not my sun.

2. I have not sang to myself in weeks.

3. I worry about my relationships.

4. I worry that I have tricked people.

5. I worry that life is going by too fast.

6. I forgot to water my plant.

7. I stop calling people.

8. I stop picking up calls.

9. I decide that life needs courage and I am a coward.

10. I realise that being human means I have to get myself up and go through the day.

11. I worry about my rewards but forget my hard work.

12. I don't believe in myself anymore.

[soulreserve]

Perfume

You become a    sound      that slowly leaches from my body into air with the softness of breath, a quiet keening,   an undertone   of heartache  I've always felt.

    You release  from wrinkles, from birthmarks I have known and carried. From freckles that darken in the sun.

You unsettle from the folds of my clothes   my hair     my eyes like a memory—washed      dried and fading                           fluttering outside on clothes lines.

You aren't gone    although you are dissipating     leaving in more ways than one.       The perfume of you   is still damp on poems I write with tears.

© SoulReserve 2023    

[theluciddragonfly]

You say you hanged your beautiful wings on the self. I know you intended to set them aside while you partake in his world. I’m here to tell you if you can’t walk through hell with those radiant wings still intact. Then the underworld is no place for you at all.

[bluestthingsonearth]

for @nosebleedclub's april prompts. 1. as good as you'll get

[heartweary-writing]

Love, for me,

Has always ended

In shame.

Love, for me,

Has always blended

With pain.

J. K. L

[4sss]

I can hear your voice in the silence. Softly your words come through. My soul's radio wave carries your whisper as I make my way to you.

J.c.A