Flicker

flicker

So small am I in Time’s tight fist, 

A singular match struck on stone. 

The drag of friction calls me into being, 

Only to flicker out as I am blown. 

Yet in this split second I illuminate more 

Than those who burn for centuries. 

My mere seconds compare to their hours; 

Time enough in my own eternity. 

Fleeting meaning against immortal being. 

Would you prefer to always be living? 

Mortals in their inevitable extinguish

see what the gods are always unseeing. 

Light the candle, slowly burning, 

Light it at the cost of me; 

How odd it is that I, so brief,

should teach the timeless how to be. 

Snaggle-Toothed Smile

TW: abusive relationship, grooming, death

Wolf is knocking on the front door

Sharp sharp teeth in a snaggle-toothed smile

Come here, little rabbit, let us play 

Come here, little rabbit, for I’ll stay here awhile

Wolf brings food to me every day

Come, little rabbit, I’ve come to play 

Wolf brings gifts to me every day

Come, little rabbit, have this beautiful bouquet

Wolf combs my fur for me every day

Protects me and never leaves me alone 

Careful, little rabbit, it’s dangerous outside 

Careful, little rabbit, don’t be on your own 

Wolf tells me how lucky I am every day

That he takes care of me, little rabbit 

And then he smiles that snaggle-toothed smile

Oh, little rabbit, you could become a habit 

Wolf accidentally hurt me today 

He asks me and asks me why did you make me do it? 

Feather-light kisses upon each wound

Snow white rabbit has become blood red rabbit

Wolf smiled that smile today 

Sharp sharp teeth with a snaggle-toothed smile 

Asked me, are you afraid of me? 

Run, little rabbit, run, run to the wild

Wolf didn’t come back today. 

Wolf didn’t give me gifts today. 

Wolf didn’t give me food today. 

My only companion was gone today. 

Wolf was oh so tender today. 

Wolf apologized for not coming yesterday. 

Oh, little rabbit, you will never be free.

Wolf killed me so gently today. 

you. 

indescribable, ineffable—

every word for beautiful could fail to describe you. 

every phrase meaning i love you

ardent, luminous, so exquisitely ruinous

would fail, tottering and stumbling, 

to capture your essence. 

yet you’re like the silken, moonlit night; 

a swatch of deep velvet sprinkled with stardust 

like bright fireflies caught in dark amber

like stars you can touch, small suns in your hands 

because holding you is like the sun in my hands 

i’d give you the sun if you asked me to

each dusted freckle like a delicate kiss

star-kissed

we are all made of stardust but you—beloved—

are made of the seraphic, most radiant of stars 

of perfection cradled in the heavens’ hands. 

and I would know you 

if we were nothing but dust and ash 

after the unraveling of the universe 

i’d know you after the death of all stars

i’d know you in utter darkness or light 

i will always know you—

you.

daughter of dusk

daughter of dusk, 

selfish and cruel—

breaking, falling, 

her faces dual 

raw petals curling from 

cracked emerald eyes

nourished by tears 

and quiet lies

bleeding hope from 

thorn-lined skin—as

briar shields flower

as hands from help

don’t leave me please—

etched in starlight 

don’t let me go—

please hold me tight

then bleeding—bleeding; 

red slowly seeping 

lines upon lines while 

waiting for the reaping

but she’s right there

stay—leave—stay—please

is it—she—me—so wrong

you’re on your knees

just say it’s fine and

bandage the cuts

it’s just a bad dream. 

keep your eyes shut.

Love, —

I’ve always wondered why people start their letters with “dear”. Were the first people to write letters friends? Lovers? Family? How close were they to spill their hearts upon a piece of paper, all starting with the word “dear”? 

I’m not going to start this with “dear”. You don’t deserve that. You never were my dear. Perhaps we could’ve, in another world, in another time. But not now. Not here. 

Is it possible to be heartbroken without any words being spoken? To crush hope without a noise? I always thought it’d be louder, bigger, greater, yet here I end with barely a whimper. 

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I should be over you. I thought I was over you. Yet each time I see you, there’s a pain in my heart, a twinge in my soul. You were the one who decided to stop talking to me, yet wherever you look at me, there’s something odd in your gaze. 

I don’t get it. Why? Every time I think it’s over, you talk to me—the barest conversation—and I do this all over again. You build me up then throw me down, all without realizing it. 

And I hate myself for it. I hate this feeling, this emotion that I can’t control. I hate that I know that it won’t work, yet I so desperately want it to work. I hate subconsciously looking for you everywhere I go. I hate remembering that your favorite color is blue, that you don’t like sweet foods. I hate thinking about your voice and what made you laugh. I hate knowing that you never looked at me the way I wanted you to. I hate knowing you loved someone else and she loved you too. I hate the relief I felt when you didn’t date her. I hate that I want you. I hate that I miss you. I hate that I love you. 

But I could never hate you. 

I wish I could. I wish I could scream and cry and yell at you. I wish I could tell you exactly how I feel. I wish I hated you instead of myself. 

But I don’t. 

So I’m sorry. 

I love you. 

and it always comes back

to your willingness

to destroy yourself

for the slightest chance

that someone might

care enough to stop you.

-mars