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Literature
noise
i’d like to think you went to heaven—
i’d like to think you went to heaven
with flower petals in your hair
and stars in your eyes
and my words tattooed on your skin
knowing you, you’d invite god to tea parties
and force the angels to dance to billie jean
knowing you, you’d walk on clouds wearing converse
heaven’s supposed to be bright and you,
you bringing both your red wrath and your warm beauty
could only make it brighter
i’d like to think you went to heaven
but we haven’t believed in it in such a while;
remember how we stopped believing
in tea parties with god and dancing with angels?
i hope that noise,
that noise of the clouds getting so fierce during a rain storm,
i still hope that’s your converse
walking, running, dancing on the clouds
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 13 1
Literature
dark sheets
she was tired
and always seemed to be
with her mind moving slower than her hands
her hands still trailing behind others
she was beautiful
even with bags under her eyes,
there was so much warmth to her face,
you’d want to make your bed within her cheekbones
she was smart
but managed to forget to turn off the stove
and burn her hands on curling irons
she was tired
because she refused to sleep
refused to succumb to the strength
of the dark sheets you ruined her under
she was not weak
and will say so, everyday,
until you can hear her
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 24 1
Literature
women
i remember noticing your breasts
how they were larger than mine
how i imagined my hands fitting over them
or if they could fit over them ;
i remember asking myself if this is what lust is
if the memory of your hair smelling like clean sheets
                               and cheap conditioner
if that was enough to convince me i was falling for you ;
i had never kissed a woman before you—
before you I was wrapped up in used condoms
                               and masculinities as fragile as my words
now i’m wrapped up in you and when and if and how i can touch you ;
i'm wrapped up in you
                               and how you've shown me how beautiful all these women are
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 17 11
Literature
to the therapist with no fucking clue
you didn’t know how much weight
was behind those words;
how gluttonous they had been
they wobbled over to me
with skin folding over stutters
folding over meaning
they sat on my lap
and you didn’t see the pounds
or the curves crushing me,
you didn't notice
the fat absorbing your words,
your sentences imprinting themselves
as stretch marks on my skin
you smiled a warm smile
as if that would burn away the calories hidden in your words,
i smiled back a cold smile,
i think it was as cold as my fingertips
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 32 7
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 19 8
Literature
puddle
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 20 7
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 34 25
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 41 14
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 39 15
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 25 7
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 13 9
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 27 13
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 36 17
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 31 9
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 38 12
Literature
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
:iconpages-of-poems:pages-of-poems 18 6

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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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pages-of-poems

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:iconcatloversjt:
catloversjt Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2017   Writer
i'm in love with your poetry, it's so powerful and everything I read just takes my breath away :heart:
Reply
:icondamhsagaoithe:
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:
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:iconpages-of-poems:
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the feature!
Reply
:icondamhsagaoithe:
DamhsaGaoithe Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
No problem!
Reply
:iconmonocephalized:
Monocephalized Featured By Owner Nov 3, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Appreciate the favourite.
Reply
:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :rose:
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:iconpages-of-poems:
pages-of-poems Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Of course, lovely! It was well deserved!
Reply
:iconal-rey-writer:
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 ^-^
Reply
:iconpages-of-poems:
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:
Reply
:iconagethe6:
AgeThe6 Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
i like your Poetry
Reply
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