"I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain." — Sylvia Plath [x]
Author: elizabeth claire
poetry for the desperate and the romantic. university student, bored out of her mind.
poem: i like abandoned spaces
i like abandoned spaces where people once were and now are not were mist comes in violence over the frolicking dead. but they are inverted space, blanks, where i can breathe; their dead ancient souls are closer to mine then the souls of the living this hot, heavy population that fills up my chest like… Continue reading poem: i like abandoned spaces
poem: when i say, mother
when i say mother, the depression is back she does not see how i can be stripped as a person and made whole as a writer both of it, all at once, like some black eulogy cut along my wrists and my fingernails the pen lines in my skin so pretty in print
poem: introspection
can we consider the importance of introspection, carefully, our minds lavvied in milk sunlight and the webs and weeds lolled about our fingers; the rats and things now in our pupils, now in our dusty, heavy eyelids caught down by the bedsheets, the watery linen sheets, the edges still stained with the heat of our… Continue reading poem: introspection
quote: no he is not tactful
“No, he is not tactful, yet have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet, at the same time, beautiful?” ― E.M. Forster, A Room with a View [x]
poem: the best thing i can be is lonely
the best thing i can be is lonely the boy next to me has scars on his lips where something was forcibly ripped out i think it was maybe my mental edge i think we're maybe soulmates, that his black finger nails are meant to prick at my skin but then he stands up and… Continue reading poem: the best thing i can be is lonely
poem: fifteen feathered souls
fifteen feathered souls like pebbles in my hand and i lick them slowly: bloody little gravestones carved into red pebbles carved into my hands: when i tip my palms the blood comes drooling out
writing: i don’t want to see you ever again
I don't want to see you ever again, he said. She paused; nodded bravely. She was crying. Her hair was hanging in her face and his fingers twitched looking at it, some involuntary memory coming from earlier palm-scented mornings when he would lean over the sheets and brush it behind her ears and kiss her… Continue reading writing: i don’t want to see you ever again
quote: dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." —Edgar Allen Poe [x]
writing: there is only so much a person can take
There is only so much a person can take before they lose themselves. It's a sort of cracking, with the pieces falling away like blood-music, like the skinny feathers you can't hold in your hands with the memories coming like fire and water; it's your mother looking at you in the kitchen and shaking her… Continue reading writing: there is only so much a person can take
the last pavilion 