silver & gold

acts i - iv - tales of love

— act i
a velvet sheen passes over your heart. it's soft & warm, but it doesn't last. nothing ever lasts.
flowers are blooming haphazardly underneath your toes:
your skin is cold & lifeless, but the most beautiful things come about it.
tears leak from your eyes like water from a broken dam, except you are more statuesque, a claim of space in the realm of deities.
your memories are only what you make of them,
a translucent recollection of what once was.
who was it, do you recall, whom you loved? you have fallen for rosebuds, lovely words from chapped lips, the color of the sky.
a vacuum of space has unveiled itself in the spaces between your words; he lives there, picking your flowers, but his voice is sweet like honey on toast,
you only want a taste.
a taste of nectarous poison, it reminds you of nicotine. "i love you," he says.
you know it isn't true. he's a boy ankle deep in your glamor,
in your refined beauty. he smells the flowers under your feet with love,
but he sips on your lips with lust.

— act ii
you live in the roman colosseum; all you've ever known is pain, the love of pain, the laughter in your ears when blood in spilled.
he's fighting for you, you know. there's a wooden block,
carved with his many words for you.
you are beautiful, wrapped in fine, rich silk & you wear a sheen of honey & sugar over your lips,
& he only wants a taste.
you are dangerous, rotten to the bone:
there are hints of blood on your hands & nightshade in your bone marrow,
but you are enticing.
his only blade is used solely for you;
he kills for your entertainment, but your laughter is so, so beautiful.
you are a deity, can't you see?
he brings the block of wood with a grin chiseled across his face,
his heart is pounding. it is etched with his feelings for you, his love for you, his expression of everything you are.
you will smile, but it does not reach your eyes.
he is only one more man to fall for the comforting feeling of your silken sheets, your smooth fingers carving creases into his skin.
it's deadly, the infatuation with you is, but it has never felt so good to be filled with poison.

— act iii
there's a crater in the moon made for the two of you,
except there is only one person there.
"i will be there soon, darling," he says & his voice is smooth like butter. he reaches out to brush your skin with his fingers,
but you are too far apart.
spare me, gods, help me to bring him here. help me, for i don't want to live here much longer without him.
tears stain your cheeks like the wine used to stain his lips,
& oh his lips, they feel like satin, they tasted like mint leaves
& oh how much you miss him, but you are so many miles away.
you are revolving around the sun,
but it is not as beautiful as it sounds.
you can only shield yourself from the blinding light, there are burns & scabs on your flesh,
but you will wait.
time is spinning, moving, it ticks by so quickly. he contemplates time using seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, & years,
you can only use moments; fleeting instances where something, anything changes because nothing has changed for
so
long.
"i love you," is what he tells you, but you can't even see his lips move anymore, you can only hear the distant, ghost of his voice.
tears are cool to the touch, they are graceful when they glide across your cheeks,
they feel like company,
they feel similar to the way he felt.
you wonder if he's forgotten about you,
or if he's just found someone new.

— act vi
you are at church;
he holds your hand, the priest meets your eyes, snow is falling.
your miscarriage has given you a reason to believe, has it not?
pray to a being that might not even exist, pray to feel comforted, pray to feel as though you have hope.
you are singing countless verses of hymns you can't even decipher the meaning of, but you have looked death in the face & you found it to be the most beautiful presence you might have ever seen.
death has but a wisp of smoke for lungs, its eyes are the color of dead tree leaves about to fall.
death looks in the mirror & sees its next victim.
you have faced death many times before your unborn child, unfortunately, but you've gotten used to its being there.
you love a man. he holds your hand, the priest meets your eyes,
snow is falling.
your life is written in paradigms, repeating patterns of day & night, death & incomparable, translucent life.
you look at him & all you can think is that he is the only thing yet that is more beautiful than death.
& goddamnit, because he is the living proof of life, of a reason to live.
he is soft raindrops on nights you can't sleep, or the color of the sky during sunsets on a dark nights.
& goddamnit, because he will always be there for you until he can't be, because he is the person who hasn't left.
goddamnit, goddamnit, goddamnit,
because you are attached to him like pine needles are attached to the branches, you are completely in love with him,
& you are scared,
because once he is gone,
you won't have any other choice.

to you, who might just be in love for the wrong reasons, or not in love at all. but also to you, who has fallen in love, & is afraid of it.

an

helloooo. this book is very, very collective. it's a year old & there are 69 chapters. of course, not all will be posted but some will be. some i just don't feel comfortable posting, because while other people write in diaries i write poems, so yeah.

when i started this book, i was kind of in a bad place but i feel more comfortable posting some of my poems now. so enjoy. :)

~ mae

august 26, 2017. 12:13 pm