Lit Loves Vol. 13

the myths i'll tell my daughtersi like to think eve and pandora fall in love with each other.
and every god in every heaven is afraid of them,
the women who taught men to sin and then get to be
happy in the end. i like to think eve bakes apple pies
to celebrate long weekends, that pandora always opens
her birthday presents too early, that they get to grow
old and stubborn and surly wrapped around each other
with a fire in the living room and laughter just a breath away.
i like to think there’s an after to stories like theirs,
that the gods created them but couldn’t control them,
that we pass our expiration date and outgrow our
purpose but continue existing anyway.
i like to think eve ate the apple because it was the first
choice ever presented to her, that when pandora
opened the box, and death and sickness escaped
into the world, she kept hope to herself because she knew
she’d need it to survive the realization that her entire
existence was a lesson in subjugation. i like
to think hope led her to e
the myths i'll tell my daughters by MisfitableGrae 

ImmortalI have existed forever
         microscopic particles shifting
         from one configuration
                             to another
and I am not afraid of dying
         organic molecules decaying
         from mass to energy
                             then back again
I am never created nor destroyed
just always forgetting what I was before
Immortal by Lycaenyx

this is not a day for nice shoesthis is not a day for nice shoes
shed your pinstripe skin
return to the bed where
i, woman hides shivering
hold with dove-flight hands
her panicked rabbitheart
and soothe the ever-scared -
brave this day of wet, gods and thunder
in the cave of my comfort
kept warm for your return
this is not a day for nice shoes by aiyami-skydream

Boxed PoetryWhen I was younger
I used to think
Poetry came in boxes
Like well-crafted gifts
Always stacked right up
One stanza atop the other
Along left-hand margins
Then a teacher showed me
It was possible
               To open poems up
That I could play with their forms
Like stretch  them  across a page
Orcompressthem
         Center them
 Or pause   for breath   between
       
             Each
             Word
When I learned
    That vital truth
Poems turned into
    Sweet written dances
I could perform
    As I chose to do
They became presents
    I could use
And ever afterwards
    Offered up
         Unlimited
             Possibilities.
   
Boxed Poetry by LiterarySerenity 

Butterfly Burns.When evening descends like silence,
The red butterflies come.
Fading into the fire of sunset,
Unseen.
Spreading stars with their wings.
The way to follow them:
Quietly. Catch a glimmer of red,
A pulsing heartbeat, a wingbeat,
Alive.
They're alive; seek them out.
It's as if secrets come alive
When the world shuts its eyes.
A butterfly lands on my arm.
Gentle.
Fire and starlight, on my skin.
An ethereal dimension, the night
Sweetens my senses.
So I barely feel it when the butterfly
Burns.
I won't feel it until morning, awake.
It made a conscious choice, to
Leave a mark on my soul, my body.
But it never had malicious
Intentions.
From my perspective; I'm not hurt.
But the butterfly has healed me,
That patch on my arm.
Under the sunset, I think I can be
Myself.
Because all around me are wings.
I'm not like the red butterflies.
The wrong shade. The wrong kin.
Yet when I'm alone,
Freedom
Lets me spread wings of my own.
My soul escapes through the hole
Burned into uncomfortable skin,
And I'm s
Butterfly Burns. by InkyPages 

''it's breaking,'' i whispered, i crieddusty sunlight filtered
through glacial slats,
mineral impurities drip, drip, dropping
on your marbled skin
frozen floorboards creak
and crack
the ice
is rotting;
your casket weeps
chilled fingers grasping weakly
as the current claims you
swept
beneath
the lakeside, laketop carpet
you, too,
decay
prismatic refractions on
fractured bones,
ice fractals,
underwater icicles
is your coffin glass
or arctic gold?
''it's breaking,'' i whispered, i cried by Atomograd

the leaves of my heart can fall away tooi.
my chest knocks
but no one answers;
on lonely nights i
write you into poems
and you,
foggy-eyed and
morningmad and silent,
look at me like something you could love
and walk away.
ii.
at dawn i’ll
hold my heart above the sink
like splitting pomegranate,
feel your weight inside my lungs
as a scream;
iii.
i tried to pull the dark from your eyes
and make a sky of it,
breathe you full of love-stars
before summer’s end
iv.
each crunching leaf sends me into shivers-
(such a relief for the heart
to hear something else breaking.)
the leaves of my heart can fall away too by Mercury-the-Queen

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You're My Disintegration by Life-Is-Oppurtunity


x by days-be-strange