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Smoke alarmsI stopped smoking cigarettes on the day I realized
that the more I tainted my teeth with it
the closer my lips got to tasting like yours.
The thought of our tongues; plastered with a layer
of rebellion and faulty filters,
wrapping around each other like ribbons that keep words
close-knit and silent,was unsettling.
I couldn't blink quick enough
before the fugacious images of the ways
you could fit yourself inside of me hung over my eyelids,
like a direct beam of scarlet sunlight on my skin.
You are the cafe patron I had last night;
a creeper that boils in my stomach
and floors me when I try to stand on my own.
I am the Light Weight.
I lit up today and put the ashes in an envelope.
You liked to lick the places I sealed your letters
because you could taste me.
Here's hoping my kiss tastes as terribly right as yours.
Skele[ton]You don't waste time with a body that won't unfurl itself enough
for you to caress it, savor it.
Like a carcass left to be explored by the non-particulars,
bones plucked from their hinges and sockets
until even the cartilages are gone,
that's when you walk away so you don't taste what was never meant to be yours.
You deserve better.
Not lying to you is the hardest thing I've done
when I'm used to running from myself;
when I memorized all the ways your fingers could leave bruises on my hips
and how sweet your love tasted on my tongue
just to hide from the inevitable daze that came with everything
that could potentially make me happy.
You fucked me [up]
and I'm recovering slow, slow, slow..down.
And when my head hits the water,
I half expect you to push me a little further
and half hope you'll fall right in after me.
But you don't waste time with a body that self-decays.
I'm not growing, I'm not replenishing
and I can't let you fall in love with thin air.
BioI write so you could hurt;
words conflate into murky silhouettes of people you once loved
who never gave you the chance,
who touched you in the right places at the wrong times
and whose breaths stain the back of your teeth
the way the alcohol from significant nights
stay in your system with a perpetual hangover.
I ache and you ache
and I watch you take the scars from your hips,
trying to put them together
as though a denouement would be upon you.
But you don't and never will know yourself enough.
Not the way I've grabbed you by the wrist
and shoved you into broken mirrors
so every fractured piece could change before your eyes.
Not close to how deeply I've embedded myself
into the concrete of your bones
and with fugacious memories, reminded you
that I am more and I am heavier and without me
you wouldn't love and wouldn't know just where to leave yourself at night
for me to pick you up in the morning.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More