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About Literature / Hobbyist AbbieFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Months
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chapped lips
a hodgepodge of stars and planets and burning meteors
and promises that escaped chapped lips
we were supernovas, exploding words, exploding skin
our glances across rooms would douse walls in chemicals
send cinderblock up in flames
i gave you candycane chapstick for christmas,
smooth lips didn’t put back together the promises
instead they decorated the black hole where i think all my love ended up
we danced on the rings of saturn
well you danced, poorly, and i drifted,
so slowly you didn’t notice at first
there's no oxygen in space,
my last breath wasted on licking my lips
or were they yours
there’s no oxygen in space
but so much room
but no room to breathe
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 16 3
i watched every part of you collapse
into broken bones and bruised skin and torn cartilage
your face sinking into itself, only letting me see sockets
and melting pores; i’ve never seen hair slide off skin like that
it got worse when you took away the mirror,
that’s when i felt the fractures, felt my
skin get so hot that it didn’t take too long
to see a puddle of myself at my
feet—or what was left of them
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 16 6
how many broken relationships does it take
it was easy to forget to love you.
so perhaps it’s my fault for our brokenness
for our extinguished spark;
it’s as if i forgot to plug us in or light our candle
                               but how many broken relationships
                               does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
                               none        because there was only screwing up not screwing in
                               none        because you screwed your lightbulb in someone else
i am trying to forget to love you again
but i’m still writing poems about what broke us,
summing us up in stanzas about lightbulbs;
do you
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 32 24
white rabbit
alice had her rabbit hole
and i suppose you could call me jealous
that her path to insanity seemed so straightforward
my white rabbit lead me to you
and then, you didn’t look so dark so dangerous;
it took me too long to realize i had
fallen for you fallen into you
and i kept falling, blonde hair, like alice’s
blinding my view, disguising the depth of my rabbit hole—
when alice landed she got to eat cake;
when i landed
my ribs collided with the ground
sure, my body shrunk,
but shoulders and hands and tears
folding into themselves,
broken bones, and bruises
don’t exactly scream wonderland
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 39 11
pilot light
do you see her
the girl with no fire in her eyes
no spark, not even a pilot light
she doesn’t smile
not often anyway
and she turns to you
both hands at her sides
and you might as well be a wall
or a window
or the mirror she doesn’t see herself in
you wonder why her eyes are so cold
and why she doesn’t smile
or at least not often anyway
and you want to hold her hands
and put a mirror in front of her face
a real mirror
and you want to show her
all the reasons she is beautiful
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 37 14
too dirty to be sweet
but you’ve been standing on my toes
for some time now
letting these small bones
made of blown sugar
crack beneath my honey-colored skin—
my bruised feet remind me of that other time
when your lips couldn’t suck up all that blood
do you remember your teeth sinking into the honey?
i wondered if you were surprised that the rest of my body had been made of sugar
while my blood reeked of iron and salt and maybe a little of your cologne
it wasn’t long before my skin started crystalizing
and maybe it was scarring too—
i was bruised for weeks, my skin looking too dirty to be sweet
you let me heal but only while standing on my toes
making sure the sugar has cracked,
making sure you always have plenty of honey
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 24 7
lincoln logs
you forget you were the one that broke me.
remember digging your nails into my skin,
ripping my flesh from the muscle?
your hands found my joints and lodged your fingers into them,
caressing the rounded edges of my bones.
i forget you were the one that glued me back together again;
my bones the lincoln logs of your masterpiece,
of an even stronger infrastructure—
you gifted me with a new skin (one i can feel comfortable in)
and you stitched it to my muscle
with a single needle and thread
but still i am afraid that
i am only glued together parts,
pieces still not fitting perfectly—
you might blow down my infrastructure, cut my strings, take back my skin.
we forget that this body is yours not mine was it ever mine
i think i had a body once,
and i forget how it became yours.
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 12 9
of candy floss and lemonade
i drink too much diet coke
and you noticed on the second date
that my hands shook as i wiped away
the condensation hugging my glass—
i noticed how you licked your lips
after every time you laughed
and before you began each one of your monologues
you said i tasted of sugar
and i nodded along
hoping i tasted of candy floss and lemonade,
hoping you couldn’t feel the bubbles on my tongue
you joked today that if you bit into me i would bleed caramel food coloring
i laughed at your optimism, and my blood cells laughed too
because they know the labyrinth of my body—
they know how the bubbles burst when they reach my veins,
how the sugar crystallizes before it reaches my stomach
i have blue lips
and i thought you wouldn’t know
because this diet coke is my lipstick;
i’ve been sporting this shade for a while now—
i have blue lips and you wouldn’t have known
if you hadn’t noticed my shaking hands
hadn’t licked the sugar off my lips
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 25 13
cheap beer
we were surviving on half inflated lungs:
the hollowness killing us—
what was independent of oxygen left open
to the poison of tears, of blood, of the taste of your mouth;
a taste that  mirrors the bitterness of hate that tastes of
boiling black coffee and cheap beer
making me believe that hate isn’t all that bad after all
your lips aren’t all that bad after all—
but my lungs feel the burning, the heat of the hate of the black coffee
of beer dancing in the confines of a plastic cup, i know you feel it too
that my lips—my hate—burn like autumn bonfires, like ends of cigarettes
and i apologize for our half inflated lungs
for the poison, for the tears, the blood
for all this hate lacing mouths.
my lips are cracked, i’ve been breathing so heavily
so maybe you won’t want to kiss me anymore anyway
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 35 17
manhattan light
this city doesn’t need stars, you say
we are guided by these skyscrapers
these hungry office buildings
these lonely crowded apartments—
there are wires on rooftops
and under concrete
that force the cosmos to work for us,
to illuminate our skylines.
we don’t need the stars, the moon
and as your hand grabs the nearest lamppost
i see manhattan light up beneath your eyelashes
and for the first time
i see you perfectly
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 31 9
pillows of bullshit
and there were cities built
on top of your tongue,
skyscrapers sliding around the lies, falling down
the hills of words you never meant to say
backyards grow upon your secrets;
broken sentences wrap themselves around tree roots
and daisy flowers, there are seedlings growing
amongst the whispers
there are cities on your tongue
with rows of houses and there are families there,
children sleeping on pillows of bullshit
parents working nine to five jobs,
getting paid in paper that dissolves in your mouth—
where are my manners?
let’s let our tongues collide,
i want your words to be shaken by earthquakes,
your families drowned by hurricanes;
let’s save those people
let’s let those cities burn
let those words burn
let’s let your lies crumble beneath collapsing debris—
there were cities built
on top of your tongue—
where are they now?
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 37 12
sloppy bows
she is seven
and she wears her hair in braids
with green ribbons that her mother ties in the mornings
into sloppy bows—
she walks through her days with
fire in her cheeks and a chill
at the tip of her nose.
she has only one front tooth
and the children pull her braids,
unknot her green ribbons,
though the other children do not phase her.
she is thirteen,
and she still wears her hair in braids
but with rubber bands at the bottom
that have yet to snap on her—
she refuses to go home,
doing homework next to the janitors at 5pm
on a tuesday with the young boy
who makes her laugh over quadratic equations
and compliments her hair
and her blushing cheeks
and her little button nose
she is eighteen
and he finally questions her about the braids,
she mutters something
of strong native american women,
of cleopatra
of her father thinking they’re pretty;
the fire in her cheeks
and the chill at the tip of her nose
makes him realize why she doesn’t let him touch her
she is still
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 17 6
the sun, the moon
she was wise,
with the sun in one eye,
and the moon in the other,
and she looked at the world
as the universe would;
she looked at the world
seeing it as so small
standing in oceans that were only knee-deep
and in deserts that were her sand boxes
with the sun in one eye,
and the moon in the other
she looked to the stars as her friends,
but she couldn’t wrap her mind around
how far away they were
the darkness scared her—
so she never closed those eyes,
never put the sun, the moon to sleep.
sometimes she would cry to the stars
her friends—they weren’t listening,
she was flooding her sand box
she was wise,
but she didn’t want to be—
instead she dreamed of constellations
that she could turn on
with the press of a button
she wanted meteor showers
loud, mean meteor showers
that would let her close her eyes
that would let the sun, the moon
fall asleep, resting her toes in the ocean,
her head on the desert.
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 25 6
hide and seek
i don’t hate the sun so much
when you’re standing under it—
because only then i see all of you
and i don’t have to touch you
to know you’re there
but when the clouds come,
i exhale, letting my breath
play hide and seek between
the lines of your skin and suddenly
i don’t know where you’ve gone
and i remember why
i hate the sun so much
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 19 9
nothing that would leave a scar
i haven’t seen you for a while now,
haven't seen your worn out nike’s
or the hints of a smile that flirt with your face
when you looked at me.
the last time i saw you was in a parking lot—
no—my bedroom—
no—outside of our town’s starbucks.
i had thrown everything at you.
my words like punches bruising every part of your soul.
you didn’t bleed though,
i said nothing that would leave a scar.
i’ve been waiting for a while now.
all these faces look more like you now,
but none look quite as beautiful.
i don’t remember what you sounded like
what you felt like,
i don’t remember your body melting into mine,
or the tickle of your eyelashes against my cheek.
i don’t remember the way your lips moved when you said my name.
i saw you today.
wearing new shoes and a smile so wide
that it didn’t quite fit your face.
i saw you today
and i remembered how to love you,
but i walked away anyway.
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 19 9
unwrap yourself
the shadows,
well the shadows are what we know
what our hands our lips our words
reach for at night
the shadows are our friends
we are believing them—
the flickers of light,
we are believing the lies that echo through this cave
you though—
you question the whispers,
question the shadows,
you question the soil beneath our feet
and the chains that shackle us here
you don’t let the shadows touch you
and so they're attacking;
the shadows the flickers of light the lies
turn towards you at night
you though—
you unwrap yourself from the chains
and you leave
I didn’t know we could leave.
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 26 13

Random Favourites

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burnt-caramel pale-coffee sepia girl with midnight-black eyes and charcoal hair
all curled into a messy bun with strands dangling over like sleeping hurricanes
and black clothes that hang off a body that curves corners and has barely any sharp edges;
parabolas and hyperbolas constitute this girl with smeared eyeliner and
lips the darkest shade of maroon. pretty girl with tired angry eyes and a nice smile
and an easy laugh and tears that come on demand. she is poseidon when she is sobbing
because oceans run down her face, her heart is hades and her ribcage, the underworld.
there is thunder in her eyebrows and lightning in her eyes and tornadoes in her thighs
she falls in love with strangers like aphrodite’s favourite game, boys and girls
stand aligned and she makes them into poetry even when she does not love them
because her world is a sky and she likes constellating her daydreams to organise them.
she is awkward and hyperactive and she tastes like stardust as it sediments
yet sh
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thursdays are my favourite days because that’s how i grew up
with the taste of weekdays in my mouth and april braided in my hair
i had eyes the colour of june, and november laughter
i want you to love me like december, i want you
you see, i demand too much from the people who make my heart beat
i am high-maintenance and no-one wants a clock that can barely keep time
i am a season girl and you know me best.
you know me well enough to define me but god knows i could never define you
we all start out as poets. we all start out as words flitting from fingertips
like butterflies on this screen. our thighs are warm and these poetry-storehouse laptops
feel like a small piece of home perched on a humble tabletop, and the pieces of paper
and ink on our fingers that betrays how nauseous the word-vomit makes us sometimes
tell the world a story. we are alive because we write and we write because we are dying.
wednesdays are nightmares because they remind me that
pain hurts and that’s w
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Your monument stands at my feet,
Caked in the ashes of love notes burned,
Cracks in stone and debris lie in defeat,
Once dear feelings painfully spurned.
Only memories of tears,
And bridges burned,
Walk the line of worst fears,
And my hatred earned.
Screams and cries collide
Where laughs once echoed,
Bitter thoughts of suicide,
Urging us to let go.
Your monument stands at my feet,
Crumbling and wasting to decay,
A bitter fate we hoped not to meet,
I'm sorry it had to be this way.
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Hope :iconekostag:EkoStag 26 7
Writer's Block
sometimes i wish
i had the power
to rip my heart out
and squeeze the blood
onto paper
turning the blood
into ink
and the ink
into words
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June Art Feature
Hi there! Hi!
Here are some amazing works I have found lately, which (I believe) should get much more attention from the community. Going through them was a real feast, both for the Eye and the Soul Heart I hope You'll give these people much love in Your comments. I am sure that the featured artists will appreciate Your Feedback and Evaluation of their art. here I go! La la la la
The Photographers:
:iconvioletveronika:VioletVeronika 9 18
June Art Feature
Hi there! :wave:
Here are some amazing works I have found lately, which (I believe) should get much more attention from the community. Going through them was a real feast, both for the Eye and the Soul :heart: I hope You'll give these people much love in Your comments. I am sure that the featured artists will appreciate Your Feedback and Evaluation of their art. here I go! :la:
The Photographers:
The Poets:
soft piano arpeggio, dancing violins by 0hgravity   kisses that linger too long by pages-of-poems   A new beginning by JustACapharnaum   an atheist's prayer by moondrums   Asleep by classic-poet
73. i. can't. by wei-en   When Stars Collapse by HugQueen   Grim Things by Typewronger   desperate endeavors by stuff7   Sole by autogestion
:iconmacropoetry:MacroPoetry 5 10
here are the words i have left.
these fields of rainbow roses
have too many bloodstains
today; their stems were
severed too soon -
cut short. saltwater drips
in the dust as each
precious life is
gathered, collected
in vases and death counts
that taste
flags droop
to half-mast, loved-ones
choke on memories that
linger like flowered
perfume, bittersweet
and cold to the touch;
it only takes one
hateful man to kill a field
of flowers, to cruelly
take what he never
and yet
the seeds
those flowers left behind
are growing
into something beautiful.
i kneel in the broken garden,
and wonder how a world
full of hate
could still hold
so much love.
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3:28 AM
I read into your soul
     the night I couldn't sleep, stayed awake past dawn
                 fell asleep to the smell of coffee and turning pages
         but you've always been a morning person,
              wondering why mornings even need to happen;
I could sleep on the train, dreaming of you
         while you drive the dusty roads of the city,
              I watch the clock for both of us
                         wishing I could bolt, hoping for an exit
                      knowing it is all foolery.
       I'm not ready to wake up just yet,
             lull me back to sleep with your feather touches
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Clock and Consequence
it had already been 9:28:40
for a week,
a weak second-hand's bounce of
almost catching forty-one,
its relentless minnow, repeatedly
bumping bottom in the timestream,
one sixtieth of a minute at a time
it was a lottery clock, stuck
dreaming of nowhere to be
upon any arrangement of its hands,
just tick-enough a reminder
that one is only as quantifiably alive
as what they harvest from the cutouts
of abandoned moments like this one
back then, changing the battery
seemed almost cruel,
with each second
still so perfectly kept,
seemed to dismiss the labored rise
and the tender failure
of a fall without consequence
now, a month later,
its low-voltage struggle
is barely a pulse,
more nerve and muscle twitch
than indication of life
or desire to swim
toward brighter minutes ahead
for what's shed
between battery blackouts and lost-time,
eventually outgrows us, hunts us
as fractional beasts fused into one;
in dream and sobriety, we've always known
that consequence ignores few falls
but quietly coll
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the girl in the white dress
she wore the trigger
like a ring,
wrote a gunshot
into her vows,
and i know bullet holes can't speak
but this one seemed to mouth the words
"i do"
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Shot up on a prayer
Synthetic love the dreamers eye
Propositioned a new found freedom
Hostage to your religion
Burnt alive at the stake of your superstitious lie
Empire of fire in the Neolithic light
Bled the heavens, wept angels
Of fortresses in the sky  
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Foreign seas.
Passed from hand to hand 
I stand abandoned by 
Those roots that seeded me.
In my mind I’ll try to find 
The kind of love given 
Unconditionally, unsuccessfully.
If I wasn’t such a hand me down
The burden of my life would drown
Along with me in foreign seas.
And breathe.
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40's tree :iconaraua:araua 91 20



Poetry/Edit Commissions
Poetry commissions are open! Price is very much negotiable. 

Also happy to work as an editor for pieces! I'd happily do a couple of poems for this price or a short story/excerpt (yes, I write prose too, I just keep it locked away.) Feel free to send me a note if you have any questions!



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Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States


Add a Comment:
DamhsaGaoithe Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Hello! :iconballoonplz:

You've been featured in :iconthesharingproject:'s Poetry Feature No. 1! Keep up the lovely work!

May the road rise to meet you... :dalove:
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the feature!
DamhsaGaoithe Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
No problem!
Monocephalized Featured By Owner Nov 3, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Appreciate the favourite.
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :rose:
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Of course, lovely! It was well deserved!
Al-Rey-Writer Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2016  Student Writer
You've got some talent—your poems are enough to prove that point! Keep doing what you're doing, cause you're going places ^-^
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Wow, thank you so so much! How lovely of you to say such kind words :heart:
AgeThe6 Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
i like your Poetry
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, love! And thank you so much for the watch as well!
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