i.
effervescent across
sunsets,
my body
is the canvas where
his hands
create landmarks.
ii.
he can hear the way my breath hitches,
builds hurricane behind tongue,
i am a child again telling him
that i am afraid of storms.
my body curls against his, finding shelter
within his warmth.
embracing my quivering body, he tells me
that he is sorry for not listening
to the tornado sirens
iii.
he teaches me
that beneath his bedsheets
we find sparks in lines
drawn between chest and lips and back,
he is flint against my
tinder body.
i have never learned
the definition of smoulder
until now
iv.
i can hear the way his breath
becomes the tide, rumble
i have made pockmarks in your palms
where i am anchored.
finding my history scrawled across the crest of your collarbone
i want to forget that your lips used to be someone else’s
find battles that you’ve forgotten beneath your skin:
kiss the color of your dreams onto my lips until I can taste sunsets.
forget how many casualties you made when silver pierced skin,
On your hip i can feel where landmines have been planted,
how many times bombs have broken your chest,
your ribs tell me that they sound like violin strings, if not more fragile,
give me a bow, I just want to hear what your melody sounds like,
to make you shiver, give me
I walked over to your grave,
marked with a rose, and poppies.
I forget,
that in this movement,
we are just ghosts,
too silent to be heard,
too invisible to be noticed,
your body is riddled with bulletholes
and I wondered how long it would be
until mine is too.
you took me
to the Mekong river
where you crossed,
we floated to the make-shift dock,
before you went over,
I lit a lantern,
and tied it onto the mast of your ship,
and prayed
you said you didn’t have an anchor;
you weren’t talking to me
we both knew that you didn’t need one,
you would greet the tides as a friend anyway
I told you,
as you sailed away,
to never look
i.
When you wake up:
Breathe.
Inhale everything that you see and hold
between your fingertips.
Acknowledge the fact that it is too fragile.
When your co-worker asks to walk you home at night, say no.
When your friend asks you if anything’s wrong, say no.
When you realize that you cannot control everything in your life, say no.
Remember what that denial feels like.
ii.
When you watch the news:
Breathe.
Believe what your heart tells you.
Know that you are promised freedom.
When they ask you if you knew your attacker, say yes.
When they ask you if you were threatened, say yes.
When they ask you if you whether or not you were unarmed,
Dear Father,
I played at your funeral today.
His fingers are so cold.
It’s your favorite song…
Brushing them against the piano keys,
he played a melody that he could no longer hear,
songs from a grave
knowing that silence
was never something he took for granted.
“Come up to meet you,
tell you I’m sorry,
you don’t know how lovely you are”
he played until his body started shaking,
the words rose from his lips,
almost holy,
asking God
how
to shatter a glass house
from the inside
without getting cut
“Nobody said it was easy,
it’s such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
no one e
Mirrors
are a two way street
in your reflection,
there are more crevasses in your jawbone than you think
your brow is a canyon,
you are an
easle-mounted landspace
canvas
where brushmarks of fingers,
hands, and nails have all been too familiar,
where bruises are too delicate to be called purple,
yet you cannot see the places you are wounded too easily,
nothing that you
can call beautiful within your own right.
You’ve never been taught how to live without being wanted,
never taught your hands how to go steady and build bridges
out of notebook paper so you can
detail the journey across the flooding river,
know that the ink will not fad
i.
effervescent across
sunsets,
my body
is the canvas where
his hands
create landmarks.
ii.
he can hear the way my breath hitches,
builds hurricane behind tongue,
i am a child again telling him
that i am afraid of storms.
my body curls against his, finding shelter
within his warmth.
embracing my quivering body, he tells me
that he is sorry for not listening
to the tornado sirens
iii.
he teaches me
that beneath his bedsheets
we find sparks in lines
drawn between chest and lips and back,
he is flint against my
tinder body.
i have never learned
the definition of smoulder
until now
iv.
i can hear the way his breath
becomes the tide, rumble
i have made pockmarks in your palms
where i am anchored.
finding my history scrawled across the crest of your collarbone
i want to forget that your lips used to be someone else’s
find battles that you’ve forgotten beneath your skin:
kiss the color of your dreams onto my lips until I can taste sunsets.
forget how many casualties you made when silver pierced skin,
On your hip i can feel where landmines have been planted,
how many times bombs have broken your chest,
your ribs tell me that they sound like violin strings, if not more fragile,
give me a bow, I just want to hear what your melody sounds like,
to make you shiver, give me
I walked over to your grave,
marked with a rose, and poppies.
I forget,
that in this movement,
we are just ghosts,
too silent to be heard,
too invisible to be noticed,
your body is riddled with bulletholes
and I wondered how long it would be
until mine is too.
you took me
to the Mekong river
where you crossed,
we floated to the make-shift dock,
before you went over,
I lit a lantern,
and tied it onto the mast of your ship,
and prayed
you said you didn’t have an anchor;
you weren’t talking to me
we both knew that you didn’t need one,
you would greet the tides as a friend anyway
I told you,
as you sailed away,
to never look
i.
When you wake up:
Breathe.
Inhale everything that you see and hold
between your fingertips.
Acknowledge the fact that it is too fragile.
When your co-worker asks to walk you home at night, say no.
When your friend asks you if anything’s wrong, say no.
When you realize that you cannot control everything in your life, say no.
Remember what that denial feels like.
ii.
When you watch the news:
Breathe.
Believe what your heart tells you.
Know that you are promised freedom.
When they ask you if you knew your attacker, say yes.
When they ask you if you were threatened, say yes.
When they ask you if you whether or not you were unarmed,
Dear Father,
I played at your funeral today.
His fingers are so cold.
It’s your favorite song…
Brushing them against the piano keys,
he played a melody that he could no longer hear,
songs from a grave
knowing that silence
was never something he took for granted.
“Come up to meet you,
tell you I’m sorry,
you don’t know how lovely you are”
he played until his body started shaking,
the words rose from his lips,
almost holy,
asking God
how
to shatter a glass house
from the inside
without getting cut
“Nobody said it was easy,
it’s such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
no one e
Mirrors
are a two way street
in your reflection,
there are more crevasses in your jawbone than you think
your brow is a canyon,
you are an
easle-mounted landspace
canvas
where brushmarks of fingers,
hands, and nails have all been too familiar,
where bruises are too delicate to be called purple,
yet you cannot see the places you are wounded too easily,
nothing that you
can call beautiful within your own right.
You’ve never been taught how to live without being wanted,
never taught your hands how to go steady and build bridges
out of notebook paper so you can
detail the journey across the flooding river,
know that the ink will not fad
The moment you take a person and look into them, is when you see that it's like weather. We hide behind clouds and cover the hope and the sun that's trying to shine through. This is me. This is us. I'm a writer and a musician. I'm an artist.
The moments we live through, we live for.
Current Residence: Minnesota Favourite genre of music: Piano Favourite photographer: Unknown Favourite style of art: Sketch Operating System: Windows (fail) Vista MP3 player of choice: IPOD NANO, BABY! Personal Quote: Don't be afraid, show me the true you. I'll welcome you with open arms.
It's been awhile.
The last time I was here, it was a few years ago. Maybe two. I'm not saying that I'm back for good, but I haven't wanted to post anything for a really long time
In these two years, I've worked through a lot (and it doesn't matter that this is a journal because I'm not sure anyone would read it anyway) and I'm in a better place than I was before.
Looking back, I've grown. Looking back, I've done things that I'm proud of and that I'm not proud of. I won't be posting much poetry because of magazine submissions and other things, but hey. I'll just journal here.
Let's do a recap because I'm not good at doing them.
Long story short, I went to CUPSI in Boulder, Colorado...and miiiight've had a one-night stand that ended up being so much more.
"Yeah, it's all alright,
I guess it's all alright.
I've got noting left inside of my chest, but it's all alright..."
It's been a week (basically) since I came back from Colorado.
A friend told me that people walk into our lives for a reason. I didn't really believe him until I met Dex. See, this sounds really sappy, but he came into my life at a time where I felt numb. At the time, I had gotten some family news, and I couldn't feel anything emotionally. Except with him, I decompressed and had a one-night st
I leave for like, a month after not updating, and suddenly I have a DD and a load of followers. Wow.
Jesus, I can't even.
Okay. Hi. I'm Kenny, I'm kinda new at this?
Maybe? ._.
What.
thankyouthankyouthankyoureally.
You know, I've always felt guilty that I never esponded to you here. I can hardly remember why I didn't. I can remember how grieved I was to hear I was the only one, and how much I wanted to tell you that you deserve more. So I'll tell you now. I hope whenever you next come online, you find friends waiting for you. And even more so, I hope that the people in your life, that you can see and hug and laugh with, remember to say it to you too. Happy muvh-belated birthday, and I hope the rest of the days are pretty joyous as well.
Welcome to #BurdenedHearts, we are delighted to have you as part of the group!
We hope you enjoy your time in the group and have a chance to interact with other members by posting in response to our journals and polls. We've found this is the best way for members to meet each other, find new friends who can help them through tough times, and open up.
If you are in need of some support you can always ask for your name to be added to the Well Wishes Log or participate in our Agony Aunt Column.
You can add any deviations that are based on an emotional theme to our gallery, but please put it in the right area.
If you have any questions feel free to let us know, we'd love to help you settle in.
Hello my name is Josh Kirlin I am an admin on another writers group We-The-Writers we are just starting out. I wanted so say you your gallery is quite impressive, and I was wondering if you had any tips for setting up a strong group?