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Random Poems by Magattahana

Magattahana

"A writer is a world trapped inside a person."
I guess I'll just dump poems here. I hope you all enjoy reading them. Here's the first one. I wrote it a few days ago.


i felt your skin under my lips


the heat between our souls


the melody of two hearts


in simultaneous laughter


but later that day...


...the desert seeped out of my skin


parched earth like my joyless, empty chambers


why are you gone?
 
Some gracious person wanted to see more, so here goes:


we took a walk under the moon


under the watchful eye


of Artemis' suitor.


we walked on stone tightropes


as stars covered the earth


in their gentle, pallid glow.


dangling by frozen threads,


she and I gazed up into infinity.


she showed me how to live.
 
injecting your soul into my veins


racing hearts


eyes glazed over


shaky breathing


now i'm going through withdrawal
 
desperation


for the kind of warmth that heats up the soul


everyone wants to hold or be held


but i don't know if i should look for another heart


i'm not sure if i should meld


this hunk of ice between my ribs


with someone's supernova


but only time will tell


(this one's crap. barely put any time into it.)
 
i will kiss you out of love;


other things out of lust...


but, honey, just know this:


i'm not who you should trust.
 
what inspires me


is iced tea on my lips


and the thought of replacing


the sun's fingertips


on my skin


with your own.
 
i've given up on love


i've given up on hope


now all i have left


is giving all my love


and giving all my hope


away.
 
i feel blood


in places


i don't want


to swell


anymore


because


i can't


decide if


i should


suffer


alone or


give the pain


to someone


willing.


(this one is quite personal for reasons, um, yeah. I mean, they all are, but I was kind of afraid to post this one.)
 
the love keeps bleeding out of every pore


and all I ever really wanted was to be adored


hurricane inside, statuary face


treated by all like a fucking disgrace


numbly thumping in my chest...


the hole drinks pain so they may rest.


(sorry for the language, and yeah. this one is about how i want to steal away people's pains so they can be happy.)
 
a little porcelain sea horse hanging by a thread


allows you to feel dread when someone else is dead.


but when the little sea horse is reduced to pieces,


your ability to give a damn completely ceases


(and that's all of them for now)
 

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