this is a part of poetry!lock fic

poetry prompt from @otemporaetmores

Skin had hope, that’s what skin does.
Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.
Love means you breathe in two countries.

      from “Two Countries” by Naomi Shihab Nye

Adoribull, T, 1270 words

Dorian wants to write poetry for Bull. The only problem is, he’s awful at it. Like. Really bad.


Dorian’s not a poet. He is, perhaps, the most hopeless excuse for an amateur poet the Pavus family has ever produced. This observation was courtesy of his cousin Caria, who is an excellent poet, and insufferable because of it.

He cannot quite manage to distill his observations past wit and dry humor and into the piercing sort of truth which is the mark of true poetry. He’s never come up with the sort of lines that manage to arrest the mind and capture the imagination and stick with the reader for days or weeks afterwards. He wishes he could, desperately. He loves reading that sort of poetry.

But when he puts pen to paper, to write something for Bull (as an offhand and casual example) his mind empties of anything except the most painful cliches and he’s left clutching at bad metaphors and trying to find new ways to rhyme “heart” and “art,” or “death” and “breath.”

Poetry is precise. The words seem to work best when they mean something exact and discrete, yet encompass four or five possible interpretations.

Take, for instance, all the things a poet might mean when they say “my heart.”

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