literature

a trial hardens your skin, not your pride

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Literature Text

read out here: soundcloud.com/c-e-moore/a-tri…

I'll say this once;
you were not my idea of forever.

our first words to each other were not
profound, our first meeting was a shitty
distance call that kept
hammering to a stop, not
stammering the way you did;
commas and commas (not even a fucking
semicolon) of anxiety struck me nowhere
near poetic but that's something only
my mind couldn't quite wrap its lithe
fingers around.

"what's the 'chase'?" you asked, with nothing
as much as a cowering glance in my
unwavering direction. "a game you play to see
how much you can fuck me over without ever
touching me." silence ensued as all great
moments do.

"I would never do that to anyone."

how predictable.

you followed the delicately decorated bread-crumb
trail I had set for myself, once you'd
freed me of the duty to be your temporary
solution to a smile, but it never ended.
and I was a copper-red solution too
unreactive for you to nullify.

I had you pegged, didn't I?

you didn't respond with something I needed my
cochleas to lick and absorb
no, you crept your warmth from the sides
of a venus fly trap - kissed through the towers
of ambush and abrasion to find yet another
piercing gone wrong embedded in (almost) my own
layers of hardened skin.

I had to submit you to curse for me,
to moan like you mean it, to
grab my hair and bend me over to the commas
you never ran out of, those
line breaks I found odd that you couldn't
translate my spine into.
of course, that bent yours,
clouded your sights with one
hell of a climax and then, I had a possessive noun
tattooed on every inch of my (almost)
skin.

mine
mine
MINE
                        SHE'S MINE
let the world know
but my world consisted of far less
now. the table of contents included one
word, one name, and one index.

"set sail," you had breathed into the troughs
of my neck and the crests of my chest, "we
set sail long before you said yes."
but I was already anchoring a ship-
wreck, you denied it, you
fought it, you fought
me.

you
yelled for me beyond
the screams and yearnings of sirens far
closer to you than I'd ever be
                        I'M YOURS
                        I'M YOURS

but I only wanted you to be your
own.

may day wasn't your idea of surrender,
but murder was. this ship crashed into
the rocky shores of aquatic myths and stories
I had told you so you'd own me, but they
were gone. I
was gone and now you
were your own to hold.

it didn't take long for me to cower into
your commas (no semicolons) now
seeping their way to my coming undone, my
consistent sum
of presumptions of you - you were always
more than awkward pauses and island
pendants that meant more carved truths than
six foot promises. you were more than bowed heads
and rolled rosary beads and incomprehensible hymns,
more than badly formed letters and love notes
from divorced lovers.
 
you were more.

I crawled into a wet cabin you resided in,
woke you to clutch on to my burial dress -
had you smell the sea-bed now kissing the rises
and falls of my unearthed pride,

"I'd rather stay here, if you'd let me."

you did.
this
this took too much out of me

half of it I can probably leave for the pitbulls to tear apart
but it means so much, as half-assedly as it's done

--

edit:
reading done here: soundcloud.com/c-e-moore/a-tri…
© 2013 - 2024 your-methamphetamine
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Chezzy-Am's avatar
(deep breath) (wide stare) (complete silence for ten straight minutes)

(presses fav) (can't type anything on comments except responses)