On the internet I am a soft-skinned, musing woman
with a voice that sounds like the one you own in your mind.
I am silver-tongued: lucid with words.
On the internet, my mouth does not curdle its speech in my throat—
there isn’t a sound for me to stutter through.

There are sunny drives, and fruity drinks,
longer legs and redder lips.
There isn’t any poison in the mix,
only filters to bleach out blemishes.

On the internet I am painted waters,
recreated into teal-blues and sunlit reflections.
I send waves to surf on but not to drown under—
a coral reef lies beneath me.

On the internet I have time.
On the internet, I do not know weakness.

But on the sheets I sleep on, I am open pores,
sweating with the remainders of a moon in my mouth—  
its craters swelling on my tongue, digging themselves outwards,
There is only darkness inside them.

In my presence there is rage and ripped hang-nails. 
There are men with hammers who chip my teeth,
who claim they’ll find my soul through my legs,
who know nothing of the musings that wilt my skin.

There are silent walks and stinging breaths,
crumpled knees and bleeding lips.  

With my mouth,
I cannot tell you how I feel aloud, 

I can only know it.

In my presence,
I’ll shake in yours.
In my presence, the stutters scream.
In my presence, you will not find doll-lips
or peached cheeks.

I am only pretty on the internet.

—  Alessia Di Cesare, I Am Only Pretty on the Internet

"No, not again," he sighs in exasperation, "this is getting bad, I’m getting bad."

"You are beginning to seep into my mind once again. No matter what I do, you will always find your way, you will always make your way into my mind."

"And you will never fail to do so."


It’s a curse

Forgotten Words #20

You’ll tell yourself a thousand times that it had to be real. You’ll justify it to yourself, and to anyone who will listen because Jesus Christ, he wouldn’t have said all those things to you if he didn’t mean them. Right?

You’ll go over it a million times while you’re laying in bed and staring at your ceiling because sleeping gets harder when you only dream about one thing. You’ll go over every single I love you, I miss you, I’m yours, baby, and it’ll run through your head like a train stuck on the same track. You’ll go over every single I love you and think, he meant it he meant it he meant it, there’s no way he didn’t mean it. Right?

But the months string along and he’s still gone and you’ll start to question yourself because why would he say all those things if he never planned on staying? And you’ll think about every promise he broke and all those things he used to tell you and you’ll wonder how you could’ve ever believed a single word of it. But you loved him, oh god, you loved him so much that if you could hear your heart you know it would only beat to the sound of his name.

And if you love somebody that much, if you give your heart to somebody with that much trust, he had to have loved you back. Right?

—  You’ll start to blame yourself because you never thought he would be the one to make you question the meaning of forever
Some skeptics and cynics
say kids are too young and too
stupid to fall in love but for me,
it’s more like we’re young and
we do stupid things because
we’re in love and goddamn
do I love her.
But I have tattooed lies on
my tongue and I have kept
walls up to fend from her heart
because I don’t want her to
break mine.
I have said things I shouldn’t have
and I have shouted things I didn’t
mean and now she’s hurt and I can’t
seem to find her warmth in the wind.

When you’re young, you’re selfish,
and you take love in like you’re
a whirlpool and sometimes you
destroy the ship that carries it.
This is an apology to you,
for splintering your heart,
I swear I didn’t mean to,
and the only fault is mine and
I’m sorry I’ve been so blind—
it’s just that I’m young and I’m stupid
and I’m so fucking in love with you.
—  An apology because I’m dumb and you make me happy but I’m really super dumb and for a moment I forgot it

I was tagged by splatterofchaos to do a list of ten things that make me happy, so here we go:

1. Writing
The feeling of words in my mind that yearn for release.

2. Reading
Because I can belong to so many places.

3. Travelling
The way my heart pounds in a new city.

4. Music
Nothing in the world gets to me like words and sounds together.

5. Pretty things
Flowers, city maps, white linen, the morning sun.

6. Languages
A plethora of beautiful words I ache to understand.

7. Cinnamon
The spicy-sweetness of nostalgia.

8. Sunshine
When everything feels so much freer.

9. Concerts
The intimacy of music that is scarcely bettered.

10. Love
& how the best kind can make all of the above so much sweeter.

January was stolen glances
Febuary was little waves
March was small chocolate gifts
April was made up excuses to chat
May was sit next to me in class
June was whats your number?
July was maybe he doesn’t like me anyway
August was your birthday
September was we didn’t talk much today
October was goodmorning, goodafternoon, goodnight texts
November was I love you
December was I miss you
January was
—  all the months of the year and one
my baby girl, you’re smart. you don’t talk too much; but when you do, everyone in the room will listen to you.
your hands are small and yet, they are big enough to hold my body, heart and soul.
you are gentle. you call me every night, you tell me endless stories about how you are made to be tough, to be brave.
but it’s so easy to make you laugh and you cry over little things.
you are made up of sweet scents and bright colors.
you are strong in your own ways.
i love you,
and i am sorry for not appreciating you enough.
—  you will never say these things to me, will you? // m.c
They tell me I should stop writing about you
But you have found home in my poetry,
My pen is sick of bleeding for you
But you’re the only ink I have left to bleed
And I don’t mean to make this another poem about your mouth
Or those lips that I was always so fond of
When they were kissing me
But this is the only way I find
I can ever try to expel your essence
That you’ve managed to sneak into my bloodstream
—  s.r. // who needs drugs when i have you in my system

I was supposed to be a princess, and you a knight,
We were supposed to conquer the kingdom and fight.
In between the slaying of dragons and enchantments,
We were supposed to fall in love.
And when we defeated our demons,
We’d throw our weapons and run.
And while they’re at it, they’d put our story in a hard cover book
In years to come we’d brush off the dust and have a look.
Castles and banquets and jousting
All vanished to give way to a reality which was different.
A reality that involved arguments and distance and aloofness
It involved accusations and complications and too many years between us.
Maybe if fire-breathing mythical creatures were our biggest problem,
We’d be easily able to solve it.

// if fairy tales were real //

Do Not Conform.

She was lead to believe beauty is skin deep.

Conforming herself to be like everyone else who reads people magazine.

Cutting her hair and wearing ill fitting clothes, she thought men would love her.

She didn’t know her uniqueness was her own special beauty.

She didn’t know wearing her glasses wasn’t her being a nerd, but being a woman comfortable with her flaws.

No man every said,

"I love the way you stumble in heels."

This woman forgot to be an individual amongst a people born with mirrors for eyes.

Reflecting instead of projecting.

She learned the hard way that it is tiring being the same as everyone else, opposed to being who she was born to be.

D’Anthony ©2015