#Spilt Ink

[doreenchloepoetry]

[isawhitney]

History

Has masticated me. Cobblestone teeth

Have ground me up. I am palatable,

My body crushed under the same sky

That savoured Roman ruins, reduced them

To rubble. Still hungry, this beast city

Seasons me with its overburdening time.

When it swallows, I am gone.

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

A shepherd is what they called me.

A hound with loyalty to other things stronger than its loyalty to itself.

Woven into its bones.

Although when the time came.

The sheep threw you to the wolves.

No matter what you had done for them.

The collar of pristine spikes at your throat.

Now coated in blood.

[jamieannmason]

I'm sitting here in front of my tree. I'm taking a break from cleaning up from Christmas.

Christmas was wonderful. I will say that the innocence of childhood, when children open up their gifts, is completely breathtaking. The radiance on their face and the surprise in their eyes, as the race to rip the paper open to see what's inside is perfect. To me, that is the meaning of Christmas. Childhood innocence.

And for the record, Santa is real, especially when you're in my household.

What I do miss about Christmas is sharing it with somebody special to me. So often I read of couples who don't buy gifts for one another. Whether they are newly coupled or couples that have been together for decades. That hurts my heart. The innocence of Christmas shouldn't be forgotten once we out grow our youth.

The same radiance children have, adults also have, as you dole out gifts that Santa left underneath the tree specifically for them. If you pay close attention, you can see the rekindled surprise in their eyes as they uncover what's been thoughtfully placed inside.

From that unsuspecting conversation to a simple comment here and there, or something that was made known, gift giving provides the receiver with warm feelings of appreciation, love, and importance, which defines the meaning of Christmas as adults.

Santa once brought me the gift of love. But I was careless with it, so I broke it. I wished for love this year. It wasn't underneath the tree. Perhaps someday, I keep telling myself.

One thing is for certain. My love will know each day of our lives together how much I love them and adore them. And it will be echoed each December 25th as they open up their gift from Santa.

[bacchanteblood]

“ (…) Here’s a job, here’s a family, here’s some organised leisure.’ And the little teeth bite into the flesh, right down to the bone. But I’m being unfair. I shouldn’t have said, ‘the way they’re constituted’, because after all, it’s our way, too; it’s a case of who strips whom.”

- Albert Camus, from The Fall (via je-madore)

[doreenchloepoetry]

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Apollo felt a light hand on his bare shoulder. Hyacinth held him there in a calming grip. In truth, Apollo never before considered the simple comfort introduced by contact with another. Hyacinth's soft hand, cold, ever-deteriorating flesh, against Apollo's sun-warmed, freckled shoulder.

Not a day's work, Hyacinth had said. These are a prince's hands.

Apollo had taken Hyacinth's insecurities in his own hands- Calloused, as they were, by mere design. He held Hyacinth with a certain delicacy, something gods hardly concerned themselves with, and yet, in that moment, it came natural to him.

I don't lie. He continued, You, of all people, know that.

About this, Hyacinth was correct. Apollo reigned naturally over truth and there was no doubt to Hyacinth's honesty.

However, Apollo told him, Truth just happens to be relative.

Masterlist

[isawhitney]

I hold my poem in my hands

And spit on it, and shine it well

So it can stand the world’s demands

And give ‘em hell.

[hopeful-stormy]

Laying down in the grass… it felt nice. He watched the clouds sleepily pass overhead, occasionally picking out different shapes.

"I'm sorry I never got to come home," he whispered, trusting the wind to carry his apology to his surely worried wife.

As the exhaustion came over him, he closed his eyes and finally rested, leaving the noise of battle behind him.

[a-silentpoet]

overexposure

I kissed someone else. I kissed so many people, As if the force of their lips against mine could somehow erode away the taste of yours. The couldn't. I still think of you all the time.

The taste of you, the smell of your hair,

the glistening spark in your eyes.

Inescapably.

[wingedpiglets]

spring

the Sun's warm caress lingers; the ice thaws & the rivers soften and sway beneath Her gaze. congregations of bluebirds and swallows swell in boisterous hymns. the upturned palms of green leaf buds curl in praise. the Earth slowly exhales the long-held breath of winter, and all the world is in worship.

[marshmellody]

"The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day."

—Robert Frost

[bacchanteblood]

et tu, brute?

“the tragedy of julius caesar” w.shakespeare

i bleed, you bleed- you shall remember memento mori.

[doreenchloepoetry]

you do not have to be dead to haunt people

[lettertoholly]

My blood flows with ink ; a desire to write for the unwritten

- lettertoholly

[mydarlingdearestdead]

"What if I said I love you?" Hyacinth asked in earnest.

"Then I would reply that to love a distant object- The sun, for instance- is not love." Hyacinth gasped. His eyes welled with tears. To plead without an exchanged word is perhaps among the hardships upon which strong characters are built.

Hyacinth's favour laid elsewhere relating to this specific sentiment.

"It is... merely desire."

With the ultimate word, Apollo saw fit to take their leave. In a curtain of light, they vanished. Hyacinth, utterly abandoned, closed his eyes, seeking to preserve the impact.

Masterlist