(aka) fawn here :) a september poem, no title

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Oh, the terrors of the teenage heart.

I've been writing one poem every day on paper, so here's one of the poems I wrote in the beginning:

4 - In My Dreams (8/12/24)

My love dawns on the horizon

Above pale morning hills,

When the first sun rays

Reach my yearning eyes.

My light shines in shadows

That will only steadily grow,

Where tiny flickers of flame

Are all that keep me warm.

My joy seeks me like day

Through dappled summer leaves

And thorned roses that cut

Deep into me, yet I smile. 

My heart is a burst of flames

Bright and vibrant like dragonfruit,

With passion that wavers under

Tears of sorrow, but it still stays

My hope grows wings as a butterfly

Fragile and iridescent colors,

That find me at my most empty

And stays there, like a friend.

In my dreams, I still see you... 

I let you cry on my shoulder 

Like I wish they did with me

Let your headphones, tilted half-on

Leak the Hamilton soundtrack,

You'll always be my little brother

No matter what they say

I'll always believe in you,

'Cause I've seen the way you've been

Here for me, and for so many others.

My pride in you and work work

Won't fade with time, just like our blood bond

For blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb

And so I run my hand down your back,

Soothing in a way I'm normally scared to do

Lest anyone see the fragility I hold within.

I say nothing as you pick your chips of black paint off your fingers

Just watch as you keep your red-rimmed eyes glued to the floor.

I still think it's amazing how mere moments later

You get on stage and exude all the confidence in the world. 

They tell you not to listen

To the haters and the doubters

To the ones who fling their words like knives

But when words aimed to hurt are all you hear

It's impossible not to listen. 

it’s like a treadmill, keep running until

you fall off, head over heels and tumbling down the rabbit hole,

it’s upside-down, and the roses are painted red and your make-up

is painted on to hide the shadows under your eyes, because

productivity is lost to tiredness and sleep is lost to nightmares,

that monster under your bed collects your screams in little cans

which is why you never speak your fears aloud,

bottle them up yourself and set sail in a silent sea,

shipwrecked behind glass, a mere specimen,

scared to cry more, but what can you lose when every night

is spent in darkness, alone, so close to that edge,

falling at the speed of a feather, almost as if in a vacuum,

for that would explain why you can’t breathe,

sucking in air as you tumble down and sink into apathy,

for even when it feels a little strange not to care,

it’s not like anyone

cares about you.

To bury a goddess

Crack her eyes and strip off her wings

To steal the glass ormanents adorning her form,

Plunder her body for its twisted metal and golden ichor

Peel her crumbling flesh, flaked and yet sharp in decay

To take from the one who sacrificed and gave so selflessly.

We make her our own Purusha, tear her limb from limb

And fashion her to our own desires, forge an unfair world

From the innards we were never meant to have revealed. 

To bury a goddess

Is to kill the soul

And the kill the soul

Is to become a monster. 

Butterflies slip from her lips

Like those old tales of jewels and flowers falling from those of the righteous 

Flowers crawl out of her eye socket,

The other hollow, filled with glass; tears welled up, never to be shed 

Her skin chips and flakes, crumbling like all does with time 

Her body is half-buried in the forest.

Just another missing girl.

They had a fight

And she lost. 

You're a teenage boy too eager for wings

I should known what would happen when you finally got them.

The Sea is cold

And oh-too familiar on this barren island,

A familiar trap, a cage as potent as the Labyrinth I built myself.  

So you grasp the air, reaching for the warm sun,

Aching to be close as you climb the aerial staircase. 

I knew this would happen, though I hoped it would not;

For I am Daedalus,

But I need not be a craftsman to understand the human heart,

And to still be puzzled by it, the complex machine it is.

I knew you would soar too high,

So I built your wings with wax---

As soon as you get close enough the heat will melt your lifeline 

And maybe you'll hate me for this betrayal

As you plunge into the Sea,

That cold, familiar Sea,

But I was hoping you'd listen to me.

I am too old and jaded for this journey,

You had to leave me behind, as I urged you

But you still craved my warmth in the sun.

Little do you see my love is scorching rather than soothing warmth---

I warned you thoroughly, 

But still, you yearn for it. 

That was your true undoing. 

What do you see when you look up at the stars?

All I see is the emptiness between bodies,

The cold distance some call loneliness and some call love

What do you see when you look up at the stars?

I imagine you see the lights twinkling

And it fills your heart with hope---

I wish I could be like you.

For in my mind there is just vast expanse of nothingness

So much nothingness you can get lost in it,

So much nothingness you can drown in it. 

I'm always lost, always drowning. 

Always so close to being too lost to come back

But, alas, always one half-step short 

So I'm stuck in purgatory

(If purgatory is simply what lies between Heaven and Hell

Then the Earth is my purgatory) 

And I do not wish to ascend to the cold blackness of the night sky

Nor the chilly blue of the day's. 

arachne

maybe you were granted a respite from the tangle in your mind,

peace to build webs to shelter instead of destroy,

and maybe you were happy that way?

at least, that’s what i like to think.

i like to think you were rewarded for stubbornness, for

looking out for yourself when nobody else would;

even if you did it wrong, we all make mistakes-

you challenged wisdom herself and lost, but surely she saw

your mortal mind was not wise enough to know better.

and i wonder if, like penelope waiting for odysseus,

you wove in your brain a tapestry by day and unraveled it by night,

a collection of hopes so pretty when refracted in sunlight

but so unachievable when you tried to sleep?

i wonder if you are happy now to construct webs by day:

when during the night they continue to grow, filling up with dew,

sparkling in the next dawn.

and maybe you still dream? 

i am osiris and you are isis

i am the sun and you are the moon;

i suppose we cannot live without each other, but it hurts to be so close

are you hurting me? or am i hurting myself?

wish upon a star and it burns you. half of each, half opposite.

i am the dead and you are the living:

do you believe in ghosts? do you believe in me?

yes? i suppose that makes one of us. but of course you lie.

i am trapped;

can you find me? king of the underworld but

cut up into a thousand (seven. seven thousand?) pieces and

scattered across a thousand (seven million?) landscapes and

oh-so-broken.

twisted and rotten and left to drown.

for i am the sun and you are the moon and you control the tides;

and isn’t it fitting in a twisted (and rotten and oh-so-broken?) kind of way that

you are the start and you are the end and i suppose i am something (nothing?) in-between?

i hope you know (i know you hope?) that i would piece you together;

puzzling through my sanity and into yours.

but i am already dead and i have nothing to lose.

and i am split into seven (seven billion?) pieces and choking on water

and i have time to think.

to wonder—

when will you put me back together?

in seven years or seven trillion centuries

when will you come for me?

i am gone but you are immortal and i suppose i have all eternity to

wait. and to hope. and to know:

you are not coming.