SoothingAngel

Danica

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Because-- by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

Because--

1 Because I was the girl made of brass that shoved her feet in the dirt like roots and stared down the wishing well. You were never coming home, and I was never going to leave. 2 Because I was the girl who looked at pennies and only saw the sunlight glinting off them- because I was the girl that could not stand to bend down and feel my wishes breaking into rainbows I didn't have the faith to see. You were the light. You always were the light. 3 Because I was the girl that didn't believe in miracles. 4 But you gave me a reason- you translated a foreign language into me and when I talked I listened deep; you b

hello world by SoothingAngel, literature

Told by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

Told

I In a castle of bodies that are all my own, I usher the one I cannot not feel into a robe that is not a robe, but a suit. A suit of paint chips. I hold color in my hands. I breathe out summer. It doesn't hurt me, and I think I'm growing eyes again. II The rest of me, all over, and no where, sees terrible visions of everything that cant be wrong but are. I see the womb of the library open up and I have to walk, because surgery is near, and it has to happen now-- because of the waterfall that is coming and the bones that I will break am breaking and the God that can hear leaves change into different fires. So I step.

Yes, good, okay by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

Yes, good, okay

a blank page is my piano. and sometimes, you have to ignore the truth to accept it more thoroughly when the light finally falls against your kneecaps in bars of sun and you see the hair you missed shaving and you don't care, really, because you know who you are. When this happens, it is not like the shifting of a puzzle piece back into its place; it is not like the moon being brighter than usual, it is not a shooting star, it is not a bittersweet release. It is a song careening off the tip of a worn tongue and catching a rainbow on the back of its notes, all their clefs and colors settling into your bones. It is not an af

ater atra atrum zamia by SoothingAngel, literature

Magic by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

Magic

In the back of God's pick up truck, there is a giant honking treasure chest with birds sitting on it one day I am going to hold your hand we are going to climb into the truck bed. I'm not going to care what I'm wearing, and you're going to kneel in front of doves they're going to look at us and they're going to say "It's about time." I'm going to laugh at this, and you're going to feel relieved. --Finally. There's more hold on keep reading I'm going to stare at the back of your head and love it I'm going to put my hands on your shoulders, because I have reasons so do you Then you're going to hear my heart whisper, you will

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somatic refinement. by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

somatic refinement.

"Ribs don't contort, you idiot." Mine do, mine do. All this time I thought you anatomical. All this time I was pushing you in through my skin, shoving you into thighs and gathered kneecaps. I was so partial to the malfunctions. But you have been deeper. You have traveled further than ventricles and clavicles, you have broken intestines and stomachs, And surpassed 2 & a half years this coming August 24th of heartbeats, and haphazard lung-diseases. You were vaccinated by wings; By rippling keyboards and face-onions destined for billboards and greatness. My abs, hurt. There is no sickness like the remainder of you

two pieces, you pieces. by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

two pieces, you pieces.

* We are straddling the rim of summer's gradebook, sweat, clawing at skin folds & glands, aching to be released, to know carbon monoxide and sunshine. I am finding myself in beginnings, and all of your opposites have been graced-over, for now, for now, I miss the bald spots on his chin & the way our hands always found each other, crowds did not really separate us, he is always around corners, waiting at lockers without padlocks. two plurals make a singular, in this world of bracelets and un-interpreted night-wakings. We first connected, through wire-lids. You told me what it was like, to know that the darkness in darkness wa

court de haleine by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

court de haleine

You are atonal. There are half-notes disregarded, Whole deceptive cadences blotted out. reckless, your shape has become airborne-- and before inhales I am cast upon asphalt; you wait for me there, getting comfortable in potholes, making noise alongside oil-changes, fishing without lure under license plates, and you are not permitted breadth. You have always tried to be polite, with your indecent exposure and razor-ridden keyboard, but all pleadings have turned you against yourself. so commonly you find the best courtesy in blood-seams. You are this swelling comma inside of me; You keep expanding within my breastbone, I'm ge

The Driveway by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

The Driveway

There were twenty thousand pounds of a girl underwater, and he told her to use the doodle section of that particular spiral. Something about subjects, something about that being where poetry belonged. I was wearing absolutely nothing but you down to my skivvies; and sprawling, I was not cold, in thirty-seven degree Fahrenheit blankets, I was prettier with weaker bones; I could feel them—their eyes, on the window shield—they kept waving and driving in circles. I was only a headache spread out on a quilt mountain, it was seven o' clock when the sunset started—and an hour before I had not been able to keep my soda down, or the tips

orchestras under decks by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

orchestras under decks

I had known how terrible the thunder was. How involved it was in the affairs of northern snowstorms. and I had known precisely, and intimately, the incalculable ways that you would be taken. and in how many, (but only one) ways, you would give yourself over to the things you didn’t feel like breaking so late at night; to harps. how you would halt your tongue (but of course not before shoving it down my throat in the most vulnerable Friday there ever was) and leave your sorries, within the part of rain-boots that my toes crashed into. You were a bastard when it came to contradictions; and you are excellent, excell

more than I had noticed by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

more than I had noticed

We are unspeakable; our vocals have become available only in lowercase sharps and guitar strings. Apologies, always made it worse for us; because we weren’t sorry. It dismayed us like nothing else could; there were no lips quite as upside down as ours when we weren’t besideeachother. and there will never be such mouths again. We

unfettered, undone by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

unfettered, undone

you said, "hold nothing back", but what else can I do? all of my bones, they are screaming, for you. this is not a graveyard, and that is where the trouble starts, Eric. that is where (this) trouble happens; quickly, harshly-- and absolutely vein-wrackingly. I could(n't)weigh you down, with skeletons, and I shouldn't (erase contraction) let go, of beautiful hands. I am grabbing desks, decayed; avoiding immortal keyboards, I am-- I cannot. I cannot show you, what, you have done to me. Such, such, a headstone, would smear hurtings on the bifocals of your a

What Happened On Lake Michigan by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

What Happened On Lake Michigan

there is a taste in my mouth, that cannot be understood by the bud of my tongue. I am hesitant about swallowing—about swallowing such wave-length conceptions; there is no telling, you see, there is no way of telling what sort of inflamed my vocal chords could swell to, on the way down. there is a way—there is a way, of telling and knowing how lonely my skin will be without you—and how, knowing how if I meet the maker of me—and if I, allow him waist—and windows of more than one species— if I do this, things will be happening quickly and

They Had Voices Inside of Them by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

They Had Voices Inside of Them

and they had a quiet only staircases remembered. i get weaker in my knuckles and calves, when i think about your keys being forlorn, for the ignition of your airplane. (do you smell the youngness of it? can you taste the wrinkles that won't become creases?) and my poetry, wilts, staggers, doesn't know how to stoporspaceitselfout-- when you don't put periods at the ends of your sentences; wilt. stagger. I cannot think about you quietly--for you have blared yourself, in the green of ink; slipped through the nostrils (her

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of birds and rain by poetic, literature

Literature

of birds and rain

document 1. may 17th. "if this is how it starts how hard is the rest going to be?" may 18th passes. so does june 22nd. in the time between and after, I am left only with my birds and the rain and it rains all the time. august 7th. I can no longer hear the geiger-counter clicking of the gutters over the echoes of crows and car horns, though the mud that devours my shoelaces each morning tells me the storm still hits while I'm asleep. november 24th and even the pigeons have gone. buildings boarded up, graffiti all over my car. nothing shiny left for them to shit on. january 6th now-- eight

and the knowing. by sweet-lyrical, literature

Literature

and the knowing.

one. It comes and goes in waves: dreams of Avignon in black and white, the colours of your morning through the fog, and my whole life reaching up to kiss you. I remember the weight of your love, the heaviness of the noises you make while you're asleep and how and how you moved against me and all the words mean nothing now. I remember the backseat of a little black car in a parking lot surrounded by ocean and your hands witnessing the indents of my ribs. I don't own myself, I owe myself to you, to the way you kissed me before I had a name for these things, to our breaths suspended in the cold, the dialogue of our romance. Now

two three two three by KawaiiJillian, literature

Literature

two three two three

i was supposed to write this poem and place this poem square between us instead of calling you i was in love on this day but nothing ever i've got no taste for history, she said, all those treaties all those sour and self righteous people. and a dog could do arithmetic- don't get me started on arithmetic. what's the purpose of a poem if you ring it dry? a poem is better left in the sink, not all hung up from a poplar tree a poem and a present are better left unopened

Q+A by mySeity, literature

Literature

Q+A

I will never be able to be a good lover because I can't answer the questions. "Why are you sad?" I am currently inside of your left elbow, questioning the ways I long for your flexibility. We are two unequal sides of a triangle but I don't know where the third one went; we can't even take a proper shape. If I have to look at you one more time I think I might die. The masochist in me really likes this. "Oh, you know- -what is sadness anyway?" My dear, you believe in a heart that takes to the air. Whereas I am devoted to skin because everything underneath is just ducking for cover.

leavemedon'tleaveme. by Pretty-As-A-Picture, literature

Literature

leavemedon'tleaveme.

you make me sick. you make my stomach fold in on itself and press out against the lining of my flesh. you put lumps in my throat and you tie strings to my tear glands and tug until the world is just a panoply of blurred lines, hazy colour and bokeh. you made me do this. you put the knife in my fingers and you told me to tear, you said you would care if i hurt myself like this. you said you’d care if i opened my flesh up for you like a gift of blood and flesh and tissue. but you never really did. i like being small, i like being the blue eyed girl sitting amidst background noise, rubber band arms holding the necks of her legs together.

vacant. by Pretty-As-A-Picture, literature

Literature

vacant.

Look at her; she’s a porcelain doll with never-ending milk legs all stapled to the bed, thirteen years young with forty-eight years suffocating her figure. He’s right up to her baby lips, offering cigarette breath and grinding his stubble on her cheeks, it reminds her of gravel and she closes her eyelids as it falls across her neck, inhaling the cloud of dust. The curtains are draped across the sky, dried blood red casting shadows she can’t tell the ends of. A dim flicker of a light and maybe a filter of moonshine illuminate the crevasses of his eyelids, forehead and awry mouth. His skin tastes of sweat and earth. She was wit

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thicker than music by SoothingAngel, literature

Literature

thicker than music

I know I love you. More than me. More than the coffee steam of stars. I'm clenching my teeth now- the sadness is pressed flat. It peaks in my lungs. There is a metallic tenderness I never knew before, to the way that when you are silent, I hear the heartbeat of your thoughts. They taste the way warm laundry feels when you pull it from the dryer. Your voice is the softner, and the blanket, and the angel hiding in unfolded sheets. I put them to my face and smell the warmth. Crystals. Petals. Tears, the size of dogs. I love this sound. It is the scent of a violin. you are the violin I hold the song to me, more than jewelry, more t

thicker than music

SoothingAngel

About SoothingAngel

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Artist

Sep 2
United States
Deviant for 17 years
She / Her

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Current Residence: the state with orange santa clause outfits.

Tools of the Trade

hands, eyes

Posts

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SoothingAngel

Jan 4, 2009

NEW ACCOUNT UNVEILED

0 min read

~j0iedevivre. my new account: j0iedevivre I've been hiding out. Hope you all come see. Everybody, I'd like you all to make a promise to yourself in honor of every beautiful potentiality in the world: Live with intention. Live with your eyes open, never stop looking; never stop listening, seeing. Above all, do not be afraid. There are wings waiting in the wings for you. Blood, emptiness, hurt-- it doesn't last. There are things that do last, and they are worth waking up for, even if you don't know what they are just yet. They'll get to you. Just keep believing in your own hands; they'll thank you later. In case you missed it

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SoothingAngel

Nov 8, 2008

'you're my shooting star'

0 min read

So I'm trying really hard to conquer the fear that these things are bad luck. So it is, I think. Here I am. I want everybody to know that I don't come here as often because it makes me tired. I think it's the account itself. It's been through too much. I'm going to make another one, I think. As a poet, we can only really write better by leaving some stuff behind but not forgetting where we came from. I came from a lot of places, really. Some of them really painful. But I want to be older and I am. There are things worth fighting for, and I'm ready to. This is not the end, and it never was. I want you to know that I love you. I want you to kn

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SoothingAngel

Sep 28, 2008

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

Loretta's "Ont" died, so my mom got this huge box of strange, interesting old lady things, including something called a "sock saver", a very proud swan trinket I plan to use for paintbrush holding, and a Nova Scotian cookbook. I don't know anything about Loretta's Ont, but I like her. -- In other news, we ate on the deck tonight, and I find it hilarious that the more impervious I am to feeling hungry, the more food people seem to insist on feeding me. -- Brisingr is the freaking best book--better than the first two put together. The book comes with a few dry spells, but they are always drenched soon after and if a book can make me cry fro

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Profile Comments 404

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happy birthday

^{Happy birthday! :]}

Chinchillachan

Mar 4, 2010

I love your writings. Truly, they make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. Amazing work. Amazing.

maplekokob

Feb 5, 2009

Hey. I think i saw your picture on this website/blog here CLICK HERE

Raphael-Leblanc

Feb 5, 2009

Don't click. Maplekokob has been hacked and if you click on the link, you too if you give your username and password! If it's too late, change your password!

y0urstalker

Dec 16, 2008

oh how rude of me to say nothing
I forget myself with my manners.

b1gfan

Dec 15, 2008

Congrats on the DD Danica

Very exciting