Discussion in 'General Chatter' started by rats, Oct 30, 2018.
instructions by neil gaiman!!
back to share this tasty morsel
in retrospect it is probably a fan poem for a fandom/pairing that im not sure of but it's still good as hell
Spoiler: of martyrs and orchid-sunrise
when is a martyr not a martyr?
he asks over afternoon tea, the evening
i run away for the third time and return
three hours later, crying into my
cassette tapes and splintered knuckles.
i still cannot meet his eyes.
i pull my fingers over the hyacinth petals,
the ones on his countertop from three
weeks ago, over and over, until it feels
more like cowardice, more like hiding.
he grabs my hand, turns it into butterflies,
his irises a radar of warmth and starlight,
and he mumbles the question again.
I hum in response, baritone meeting static
for the first time, and he paints my arms gold, magicks my mouth into sunrise so
i’ll give him an answer, and he replies,
when he saves everyone but himself.
the meaning sinks in, and he holds my
shoulders while I tremble myself into an
earthquake; frantic, my hair becomes snakes,
becomes wisps of smoke, becomes moonlight.
i shiver into a new dawn.
Ok this one got me down deep:
The secret me is a boy.
He takes girlness off like a sealskin:
something that never sat right on his shoulders.
The secret me is broad-shouldered;
the sea can’t contain him,
the land can’t anchor his waves
to its sand.
The secret me swims
with the big fish, brash, he swaggers
like a mermaid, bares teeth
like daggers, barks at the moon when it’s thin.
He’s whiskered, that boy. Thick-skinned.
Quick-finned, always turning tail.
He wears his own skin like a sail,
lets it carry him to where
salt swallows mouthfuls of air.
Let them find me there by the shore:
the girl-seal with a secret
boy inside. Rough-voiced. Black-eyed.
as the beach by the tide.
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