Today I awoke and the sky was red;
The trees were dark and shiv'ring silhouettes.
I shut my blinds and fell back into bed
To dream of rusted skeleton regrets
That oxidized on hopes tied up with lace.
Today I awoke and the sky was red
As pomegranates and rouged lips of coquettes,
Copper awash, chasing the moon's pale face.
I shut my blinds and fell back into bed,
Tangled in sleep and sheets, my limbs unmet
With morning cold, caught in their crooked grace.
Today I awoke and the sky was red,
Skyline reflecting November sunsets;
Songbirds where quiet and wind was effaced.
I shut my blinds and fell back into bed,
To let the fire cle
This Time Imperfect (Draft I) by iLuvStrawberries, literature
Literature
This Time Imperfect (Draft I)
We held hands on the last night on earth, our mouths filled with dust.
Our skin touched like ice, the evening light heavy with ash. I could not speak for the heat in my throat, but I took your hand, and you took mine, wading through the tall grass to the trees silhouetted in the distance. The blades cast shadows across our arms and legs, their dry edges licking at our flesh like little tongues. I turned back to look into your eyes again, yours blue, mine grey, red and swollen with the hot air.
We kissed in the field under trees, screaming like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves.
The braches were as dead up close as they had been on the sk
Waiting for the Radio by iLuvStrawberries, literature
Literature
Waiting for the Radio
I looked forward to Tuesdays like most people in these parts looked forward to Christmas.
Even before the sun had risen, I had, eyes groggily searching out of the makeshift window pane. In the other (and only) room, I heard the radio's popping, attempting to tune itself into the ancient frequencies. The old AM waves were the only electricity left soaring through the sky, whizzing about the paths that once held the billions of signals that had made the air buzz. Huddled under my ragged blanket, I listened to the familiar baritones coming through the crosshatched speakers.
"Good morning, Desert, it's five o' clock in the AM, Tuesday, February
Baby's breath and daises fade in the honeysuckle air,
Blooming into bouquets on the end of the earth
Of marigolds and chrysanthemums,
Petal soft with the shifting of skeletal hands.
Hibiscus clouds float across fiery foxgloves,
And they melt the light into orchids,
Irises and dark,
Leaving lavender and shaded ferns in the rosen wake,
Dew settling on the cliff of night.
This love, it's electric. by iLuvStrawberries, literature
Literature
This love, it's electric.
Lightning flashed in every corner of the sky, and from the west, low growls of thunder grew closer. The wind was warm and full of static, ushering forth the roiling clouds. Though the sun had long been under the horizon and the night was dark, the pavement of the cemetery path was still warm beneath my feet,
I had discarded my clothes in the passenger seat, and walking up the hill, the rain pattered onto my skin like electric rhinestones. What had started out as spitting was beginning to run in rivulets down my flesh, sending shivers across my shoulder blades and down my spine. Against the black sky and the cobalt flashes, my body shone in
in the wings of the Monster, i felt so small. my hair curled over my shoulders, falling limp, damp and dark. but the space enveloping me was darker. i tried to slow my breathing, to stop my breasts from heaving.
'inhale. exhale.'
leather shuddered around me. the Monster sighed. i sank to the floor, knees shaking themselves into nothingness.
the Monster followed, suspending me in his shadow.
* * *
i awoke with tangled limbs. the Monster was nowhere to be seen. suddenly, i felt cold again.
"where are my knees?" my voice felt empty, but my breath had slowed and shallowed, at last.
"are you awake?" i hadn't heard the Monster speak before.
Stupid Damn Stars and the Lantern Floating Ceremony...: My First Sonnet; Poorly Attempted, Poorly Done, and Poorly Titled
The falling stars all floated in the sea
Looking up to where their Heaven had been.
Mirrors remain; their vanity still is sin,
Chorus of light, gazing in jealousy,
For in the sky, water is all they see.
The birds swam 'round with each feathery fin,
And the stars held fish in contempt, akin
To flightless scales; in the sky was the sea.
The dark was the same where the ocean had laid
Against the heavens, and so it was the same.
But the horizon had shone darker still,
So from the sea the stars began to fade,
To pr
Remembering a Little Too Late by iLuvStrawberries, literature
Literature
Remembering a Little Too Late
Sometimes, I forget the most important things to remember.
To remember the smiles I've been given,
The embraces and the kisses,
Those words, those memories,
That love.
Sometimes, I remember too late.
But somehow, sleep becomes the solver of all problems,
And your love will be there tomorrow,
Getting me out of bed,
Getting me dressed, and into the light.
My love will be there, too.
And you can have it, with all of its imperfection,
With all of its forgetfulness,
If you'd like.
Beneath my flurry of apologies,
I'm remembering the most important thing:
That I've been given love.
"Your fingers taste like cigarettes." Her tongue curled around the tip of his index finger, sucking the essence of ashes off. The nighttime sky was black, stars hidden behind the cover of clouds that had rolled in that afternoon. It was quiet and warm, bugs creeping in through the cheap windows and skittering around on the computer screen, as crickets tried in vain to drown out the soft piano in the speakers.
Her lips were swollen with kisses and his were buzzing with menthol, shared and given. Two tired hands held each other, while she held his unoccupied fingers in her mouth. The digital clock next to the books on the nightstand had reache
The Dark Side of the Seasons by iLuvStrawberries, literature
Literature
The Dark Side of the Seasons
The Dark Side of the Seasons
The horizon turned to watercolour rot as bird flew in alphabet letters above our heads.
They were headed south with the sun,
And they'd come back when it warmed up-
If it ever warmed up here again.
The hills faded from green to red to empty as the Dark Side of the Seasons sucked the color from the sky.
It was here to drain our heavy sunshine blood,
To fill our lungs with exhaust and cold,
And to escort the End-of-Summer to its end.