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bringyourownbomb's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
they/them. i'm just a person that tries too hard to write. sometimes i succeed, sometimes i don't. nothing i say really matters, but enjoy it anyway.


i am a stagnant smell—cigarettes
smoked in years past. words tangled
in my mouth sound better on the page.
a candle dims burned to the quick.
wax stings skin. a knife abandoned.
a blood stain. who does it hurt the most?
i, wanting you on your knees begging when
instead my lips plead for mercy. a crunch
of leaves run down by a tire smashed
beneath feet. changing colors fade
to brown but they will return. waves rise
high enough to drown. instead,
i swim.
you are laughing until eyes sting
careless touches after too much wine,
a waterfall of what if what if
what if i had never met you,
never loved cared for loved you at all. falling
asleep legs across our laps. you’re small
sketches on paper left behind
i want them framed on my skin.
you, rewritten meanings of songs
in my head i once knew them so well.
shaking of hands, an awareness
a wondering of when or if i crossed
the line. a dog, head stuck out the window
ears flapping tongue tasting air
eyes crinkled in the only way
he can smile. how i feel
when i look at you.
you are the smell of coffee made fine
in a grinder, a french press
holding me down with a touch,
blue tin cup in my hand body frozen
but steam still billows. on the floor,
record turning i know the words
and only hear you sing. shoulders brush.
you’re a tan suede coat, imitation
or not, skin beneath is real.
i will peel away all your layers,
one day yesterday now now now.
tangle of fingers under a desk
legs stuck together ankle to knee.
head on my chest, push the cat
off the couch. like you he always
comes back. i pet between his ears.
tangle in your hair. the fluff of a fox tail,
unbleached bones left raw
as you leave me.
you are a clutching of hands, nervousness
at the prospect of losing each other
in a crowd edging toward booths.
you’re a convention big as san diego’s
and i want to hear all about you,
see the corners where sticky note
love letters cling, messages scrawled
in urgent script, placed in books
and around your room to find. you,
a fleece jacket, soft between my fingertips
and the scent of  bergamot neroli patchouli
green tangerine rose, an acqua de gio sea
drowning my head in clarity. i feel you
as the release of rain in a hot texas.
you kiss me beneath it. cliché, but
a first for both. you’re the texture
and cologne of familiar books.
you have a face i read
but don’t control—i change
and you change with me, loving
always. i would name all the things
that remind me of you, but
the answer would be so much more
than our four hands can hold.
1.      my love—i want to fix myself and if i can't
do you think you could be so kind
as to give me a hand?

i don't want to be unhappy anymore.

2.      i'm just a person and i want to fall in love with a someone(s). i want to feel them grow and i want to watch myself becoming. we'll be adults, but never quite grow up. if i'm lucky i'll crawl into bed and they'll always be there. each night i'll whisper new words precious and fragile.

—my darlings, i will always be here
to make you breathe easy.

if i'm lucky we'll live
happily ever after
as reality will let us.

3.      i want to live on a beach because there are only two places i ever feel at home. one, when i've curved myself into them and lips come to kiss my forehead. two, when i'm seated by the lakeside and waves kiss my toes.

one, two, one two, one two. one—
oh, how i won one and you won
one too. i'll always choose two
over one and none over you.

4.      i want a sailboat to glide over my waves. i want to feel them take their arms and rock me and my boat to sleep, softly singing hush, hush as they brush against the faraway shore.

5.      i want to come home day after day to dinner. i will sit in a room filled to the brim with books, more than i could read in a lifetime. i want to sit in front of a fire, rubbing the soft ear of a dog. he will be a basset hound; i used to relate to the permanent look of sadness on their faces.

i want to be a writer.
would you read these
stanzas with me?

i will read, write, sit until it’s far too late. you'll take me to bed. sometimes i forget when to say when.

6.      i want to fall into bed with the ones i love. the dog will huff in his sleep. maybe there are kids in another room, maybe there aren't. in the middle of the night the youngest might wake up and run to us, startled and crying over a dream. i'll hold her until tears stop and she collapses among us, secure.

maybe her name will be tennyson and one day that will make her a poet like me.

7.      all i want is to be a writer,
so here. i'll give it my best shot—
all i want
full title:
all i want (is to be a writer so right now i think i'll give it a shot)

edit: 10/24/2015. i have changed and my poetry will change with me. 

this came to mind and I threw it together the best I could. don't mind this, really.

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BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hello Sav.  Thank you for your support.  :)
bringyourownbomb Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2015  Student Writer
you're very welcome! I adore your work. 
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, bigtime.  :)
Scarlettletters Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2015  Professional Writer
Thanks very much for faving my work. I greatly appreciate it.
wannabeliterate Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave... but don't expect anything more comming along; I've been unable to write for half a year and counting --- this will change eventually, but this time I'm really not sure if it's going to be anytime soon.
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