Glasses-And-Blades

South Africa

INFP || Aquarius || Self-proclaimed poet || Adores Animals || Snake owner || Christian || Afrikaans || To be psychologist || Bookworm || Art Admirer || Four-eyes || Otaku || Music obsessed (Rock & Metal) || Scared of people || Night sky enthusiast

Message from Writer

Hello, all ^-^ I'm Rissa, born 23 January 1998. Welcome to my profile. My favourite anime is Noragami and favourite colour is purple. Please feel free to talk to me about anything, even if it's just you feeling under the weather today. I'll also gladly read some of your work and give my opinion.

..14-02-2014.. ♡

Published Work

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

Synaesthesia

I'm choking on your ianthine voice
and spitting out colours of russet lies
along with fading shades of "I love you"
that used to be a clear azuline
but paled to a dull cesious.

I'm coughing up salt water,
the waves keep slamming into my lungs
and stinging my eyes, stealing my breath.
(I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe)

My eyes are the colour of dirty paint water,
the tears are bleeding down my throat
tainting everything with wasted watercolours
that never got to live up to their full potential
and as they dry on my cracked skin I-

My bones have turned brittle,
I can feel parts of me starting to break
after all these collisions between me and your ghost
and as I stare into your kaleidoscope eyes I-

-I collapse into a heap of coloured glass-

You're My Lullaby

It's 3am
and I press my lips
to the splatter of freckles
orbiting your shoulder blades like comets,
trailing my fingers down the braille
of your bare spine;
memories unfurl like pastel flowers
at every indent.

(They lull me to sleep,
and soon my breathing becomes an echo of yours)

Poet DNA

I,
I am a poet girl-
a poem woven from flesh and bone
with a beating paper heart
that's been crinkled one too many times
and I have a compilation of words
pressed into my very spine,
a quote etched into every single vertebrate
and I have ink mixed with blood
fueling these shaking lungs
and my eyes
my eyes have read too much
have seen too much
cried too much,
my brain is tired
it's spewing vowels and consonants
of a language I don't understand yet
and my hands are jittery,
I have too many stories
that fight to be penned down
and I have soul matter
consisting out of ABC's
and too many overlapping forms of punctuation
and I-
I am a girl of poems.

Fragile Apologies

You folded
pastel I'm sorrys
into delicate bouquets
of papery origami flowers.

-but pages crumble
and papercuts kiss my fingers-