Yourmessyfaerie - Fawn - Tumblr Blog

Harald Sohlberg, , Moonlight, 1907

the way autumn has

comforted me—

I too am a beauty in decay

—The Hollow Quiet

Your soul stained my shoulders. My whole life smells like you. This will take time, undoing you from my blood.

Nayyirah Waheed

I will not make myself more digestible 

For those who can’t stomach me

Coated sugar crumbling off my lips 

My tongue is not as sweet as it seems

Warm brown eyes draw you in

Like a soft spoken doe

You feed me from the palm of your hands

So ill return to your backdoor

Blind sided by my fangs scraping your wrists

You’re not any different

I will ravage you mercilessly

you keep crawling into me

like a little hermit crab

trying to be so formidable

with you sweet claws

but baby, you’re so soft.

so decadent, so innocent,

seeking a home in the

splay of my ribs

creeping deeper deeper

your body squeezing into mine

so recklessly not knowing

all those who came before

whom I consumed, hungrily,

most mercilessly

—The Hollow Quiet

Kim Addonizio, from Lucifer at the Starlite: Poems; “You with the crack running through you”

Hindsight

There's been some unanticipation

but my urge doesn't hold a grudge.

I would just have wanted to—just,

despite your untimeliness,

I would have wanted to

whisper in your mouth

all the things I miss about your tongue.

✒️ F. J.

I write so I know that I am alive.

I am the ultimate joke

hand over hand until the end of the rope

all to often I breathe to freely and choke

trapped in a dream so deep I question if I woke

longer I think the longer in my mind I soak

silence is a weapon that delivers the poke

one that has the ability to see me croak

only I feel the heat building, a spark that creates a smoke

fanning pent up memories and reactions the more you stoke

I refuse to lay dormant, bleeding, bruised and broke

I don’t really forget people; each one stays in my memory in a unique way. They leave a mark on me, and I don’t think you can just pretend they were never in your life. They impact you in different ways—sometimes good, sometimes not so much. But even so, you can’t just replace someone.

in the dead of night i'll be out with lanterns, searching for myself.

you're a poem i've always wanted to write, but never found the words for.

cold water feels warm to freezing skin. your callused hands are soft enough for me, i won't even notice the scrapes.

the chill in the air tonight reminds me of you.

taking a knife to my breast to split myself in half, spilling my guts for you to eat. eat me up.

v. || exposingmyveins

I’m made of poetry, but no one reads me.

Made to love, but not to be loved; made to understand, but not to be understood; always the poet, never the poetry.

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

I long for the return, bring me back to my lost innocence. I wish to be a child again.

a poem for september 🤍

the air has a bite to it

it nips at my bruised legs

and styles my messy hair

the leaves fall in the palms of my hand

and i know everything is going to be alright.

~ fawn

your claws dug into the skin on my face

rotting for months in the basement of your heart

i lay lifelessly on your carpeted floors

chapped lips repeating your surname

it's the only noun my diseased brain won't rid of

using my nails to pluck my flesh out of your barred teeth

you lick the dried blood off your fingertips

am i turning in your stomach?

~ fawn