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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 1, 2015
Exhale by IndigoSkyes is "gorgeous" as the suggester writes. This small piece of prose speaks of a deep appreciation for all the ways beauty manifests itself.
Featured by LiliWrites
Suggested by SilverInkblot
Literature Text
I love the marks that a woman’s clothes leave on her body. I love the red indents and the proof of a long day before she even opens her mouth.
Tight socks circumventing ankle bones. A watch cutting a bit too tightly around a pulse. The alluringly simple bra straps; wire pressing up into the impossibly soft undersides of breasts; the cryptic clasp nestled between shoulder blades. The imprint of lace and elastic on the taut tender tendon of the inner thigh. The geography of jeans around the hips and trailing along the legs like railroad tracks. The line on her cheek from when she fell asleep on the bus home.
I love the luxurious sigh when it all puddles to the floor, shedding this artificial skin. Remnants of weariness leave whispers on the body.
And after all she has been through, she still comes to me and allows me to trace these whispers with my fingertips, eyes, lips. She doesn't cover herself and doesn't hide and lets me in.
We leave the lights on.
Tight socks circumventing ankle bones. A watch cutting a bit too tightly around a pulse. The alluringly simple bra straps; wire pressing up into the impossibly soft undersides of breasts; the cryptic clasp nestled between shoulder blades. The imprint of lace and elastic on the taut tender tendon of the inner thigh. The geography of jeans around the hips and trailing along the legs like railroad tracks. The line on her cheek from when she fell asleep on the bus home.
I love the luxurious sigh when it all puddles to the floor, shedding this artificial skin. Remnants of weariness leave whispers on the body.
And after all she has been through, she still comes to me and allows me to trace these whispers with my fingertips, eyes, lips. She doesn't cover herself and doesn't hide and lets me in.
We leave the lights on.
Literature
Letters to all the people I have kissed
i. Rob
I expected a knight in shining armour but you were
just a boy, just a boy.
ii. Jonny
you flirted and you teased and you kissed me
at midnight on new year’s eve and set the tone
for that whole god-forsaken year.
iii. Thomas
I could taste lies on your tongue and doubt in your fingers;
you said you were a taurus but you were gemini all over.
iv. Liam
friends shouldn’t kiss in the kitchen and
friends shouldn’t drink gin together and
friends shouldn’t cry, drunk on misery, and
friends shouldn’t break another friend’s heart and
I’m still sorry.
v. Pete
I expected just a boy but you were
a knight
Literature
To depression, for creating days without end
Wake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those qui
Literature
Social Media
I saw you today,
(on your tumbler,
on your Facebook,
on your wall)
but
(I didn't reblog
I didn't hit "like")
I didn't say "hi"
because I'm unable to reach out
(to click,
to type)
because I believe,
(you want what you reblog
you want what you "like"
You're ashamed of me, on your wall)
that I'm not worthy.
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I wrote this a really long time ago, but I've always liked it.
© 2014 - 2024 IndigoSkyes
Comments73
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Third time reading this and I love it!