Pinned toot
Pinned toot

I should probably post an introduction to pin on my profile but at this point I'm just like "pls support your local magpie poet, she likes ramen and eggs and shiny things and will give you words in return."

Also

"Eater of hearts currently rebuilding her empire of mugs in a non disclosed location that is no longer London."

Or maybe just.

"Tired poet does words for you whether you like them or not. Is soft please don't startle."

Yeah that'll do.

Well met
to the dandelion joy in my chest.
The one who broke through
the cracks of it all.
I am a city.
I am a cobblestone street in a strange land.
The soft parts of me
will always be ripped up by
girls in the summer,
laughing and weaving my dandelions through their hair.
Pay me no mind, I grow more, I grow more. I smell of cider
and soil.

womanhood like
my childhood is in the vintage section and
womanhood like
having a go-to recipe for no fucking reason and
womanhood like
this shouldn’t taste so bitter and shouldn’t be so heavy and
womanhood like
the age of girlhood is long gone but still got bruises on my knees and still dream of easy kissing.

2/2

Womanhood
like
spilling out trauma on twitter with the right emojis and
womanhood like
too old for this generation googling slang and
womanhood like
still shimmy my hips like the music video from the 00s
and
womanhood like
barely contained fury and panic and laughter
and

1/2

Do you think there is one big love
in us?
The wound of which we measure all
other cuts against?
It heals
and we remember when it wasn’t a beautiful
story,
but something to be dressed and healed.

Don’t worry
I have made oaths to things
holier than your name
and come away unbloodied. This too
will be soaked in glory,
chimerical and wonderful.
Half filthy
Half full of grace.

Don’t worry
I have made oaths to things
holier than your name
and come away unbloodied. This too
will be soaked in glory,
chimerical and wonderful.
Half filthy
Half full of grace.

Patreon Poem is up:

Icarus Undone

patreon.com/posts/icarus-undon

the hill is slick with water and my knees still have the indentations of history
in ways that won’t heal. And yet I kneel by him,
if you take a cross section of my heart
you’ll find shards of him years deep, but I didn’t know
then. I just knew I wanted to fly.

Maybe I go dancing
Maybe I light incense.
Maybe I fuck, maybe I get fucked.
Nothing is as big inside me
as I am
when I am inside me.

Catheryne Valente - Melancholy of Mechagirl

There were kisses in the rain and quoting 40s movies and almost no crying.

Don't worry, my lover leaves tomorrow and I will be pouring poetry everywhere, but right now my priorities is to put on a white flowy shirt, drink absinthe and read artist manifestos out loud... I am not sorry.

if you don't call each other by ominous petnames alluding to toeing the line between desire and murderous intent, are you even lovers.

I bite into thick slices of white bread with butter on it,
tea made deep amber with full spoons of sugar.
I drink the juice with ice cubes until it hurts
and scoop a thick omelette onto a fork. My mouth
is constantly full today,
my love has come on a train and crossed the threshold
of my city and my lips
are singing sweet, sweet, buttery
to him.

1/2

My lips are blushing against his in a empty cafe.
While the pigeons still sleep
I hum deep in my throat, sleepy songs of praise
to his smile. And I sip my sweet vanilla coffee
while the rain pours outside. I plan to drink him
down, every drop of I love you poured from his
mouth to mine.

2/2

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