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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    maybe you can read this
    #1
    i'm writing poetry again lately and here is this one. perhaps you can tell me if i'm terrible

    i think most days i while away
    with biting teeth and grinning
    cheeks;

    but when i see a reflection in a
    passing window or muddied puddle,
    there is no smile on my
    face.

    i thought i had life figured out with
    her sashaying hips and elusive
    sparkle, but when i caught her by
    her sleeve she turned to dust and
    bone.

    when i stare at the clean pile of
    laundry on my bed, i wonder
    what broke me so terribly that
    i cannot fold a single
    shirt.

    in this heartbreak i sit as fresh
    laundry detergent and warm 
    cloth holds me like a
    mother;

    god bless all of our stories
    but hers i cannot seem to stop
    blaming, with her empty hugs
    and painful, biting
    pride.

    i am more like my mother than
    i wish most days, blaming what
    i cannot control on those around
    me as if love is a chain and a
    whip.

    i lovingly call this one 'a mother's love will fuck you up'
    margot / daedalus / hysperia / frey
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