7640c7ade0ad35f42f0bdb7e89fd1633

aryelee

United States

19 and boppin

Message from Writer

out of the deck of lgbt cards, im the ace

i'm 19 now so i got like half a year left on here. so here's some other places you can find me!
tumblr: luxaofhesperides (main), aikatxt (writing), blossomvnk (writeblr)
commaful: aryelee
prose: aryelee
twitter: OkinawanAika

nyctinasty

September 9, 2018

FREE WRITING

6
i knew you as a ghost story;


                endlessly painful and lingering in my chest
                    phantom fingers pulling at my bones
                                                                                i wanted to call that feeling ‘home’.

         somewhere, what remains of your memory
         collapses in on itself with the grace of dying stars
                                  unraveling the strings of your soul into something forgotten.

a wish whispers dreams of a second chance,
                        (or maybe the third, fourth, fifth chance)
in a life where we are more than just distant memories--

                in this long forgotten chapel i raise my arms to the sacellum
                    in sacrifice to beg the gods to bring us together
                        in a kinder world where we don’t die.

    this heart beats and stills in equal measure;
    a pendulum swinging in time with life
                                                                    and death.

around the campfire i listen to you murmur about lifetimes we can’t remember
and weave tales of desperate hauntings--

        in your words is the mirror i hide from
        but your voice wraps around me in chains
        as you drag skeletons out of my closet:
                                                                   i am no longer sure they are mine.

stories lay heavy on my tongue but you
            don’t give me time to move,
            fire flickering in your eyes and the night at your back

        you whisper: all ghost stories are tragedies, and we are no exception.
        you whisper and whisper but my heart is too loud in my ears.


                        i am a ghost story; please, let me breathe.
nyctinasty; the movement of leaves or petals in response to darkness; the closing of a flower at night

Print

See History
  • September 9, 2018 - 1:49am (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.