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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 25, 2014
Sundiver by winterkate
Featured by DorianHarper
Suggested by sincebecomeswhy
Literature Text
i.
When I was six a phoenix
tried to drown me.
Underwater I grabbed for fire.
Like Icarus, I was reaching
towards the sun.
I hope he still has
bald spots. I hope he still
cradles searing scars.
He was death,
I was the bird.
ii.
My uncle knows plastic-
wrapped soaps as well
as he knows fine wines.
If he drinks enough,
he thinks it’s love-
carved names rubbing
the silver drain smooth. Diver: 28 days
sweating, ship black against
sea. Like it had been peeled
from amber tongues.
iii.
On my fifteenth birthday, the boy
with stars on his fists and Saturn’s
rings in his eyes told me I was pretty.
It was the first time
anyone had said so. I learned
how to hold my breath,
how to apply foundation,
how to cry
without bleeding tar
down my cheeks,
and how to wear my bones
quieter.
iv.
He says he does it for the money.
He says you have to come up slowly
or else something inside of you will explode.
I didn’t understand what he meant
until I realized my throat was still
somewhere in his bed, tired
and having forgotten itself.
v.
When I left I drove as far
and as fast as I could.
I wear waterproof mascara now. But even
with the feathers sprouting fiery from between
my shoulder blades - I don't look
straight at the sun.
Literature
Paper-Thin Promises
the first time I caught sight of your
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statu
Literature
wednesday's child
it is the third of october
and i am building a castle for us
out of feathers, bird bones,
ocean waves and library book pages.
anything to keep our feet from
touching the ground.
you are sin, he whispers
and his fingers trail cold fire
down my side, scorching flesh
and freezing bone;
brittle pieces of me shatter
as they hit the stained linoleum floor.
don't wake me from this nightmare.
i whisper a nursery rhyme
as i walk down our
autumn path.
kamikaze leaves fall, trailing
fire as they throw themselves from
the branches, down, down,
to cold pavement below.
your words echo in my mind
a constant reminder
that i am sin
but you,
you were
ne
Literature
Anxieties of a Conflicted Introvert
I.
[i don’t want to
have to tell you i’m
sorry
again but
lately it’s been tough.
And i’m stricken with this feeling that
maybe i’m not good enough.]
run.
you see, somewhere out there
birds are looking for nests and birds
are finding them in the ribcages of souls but i
am tired of picking straw from my heart
and strings and hair that wrap around my fingers i’m—
[well sometimes i’m a little lonely
but i never wanted to tell you that]
escape.
--tired of seeing the ball i wind from
those leftover nests grow and grow—
[and i want more, want more,
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My return wouldn't be complete without a collaboration with the wonderful DearPoetry ! I'm so glad she decided to work with me again - and if you haven't seen her work, please check it out. She's literally fantastic!
© 2014 - 2024 winterkate
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I love this.