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    Talise the Vaporeon [WIP]

    Min
    Min
    Centurion
    Centurion


    Age : 25
    Posts : 3291

    Talise the Vaporeon [WIP] Empty Talise the Vaporeon [WIP]

    Post by Min Wed Mar 20, 2013 5:14 pm

    Somewhat inspired by Andrea Gibson's poem, Ashes.
    A weary, lost soul who realised her selfishness, but was too late to change herself.
    Wish|Protect|Scald|Ice Beam
    Female, Young Adult. Poetic.
    No sense of right or wrong, does not believe in justice.
    A bit standoff-ish, silent to the point of unnerving.
    The night I was torn from the pages of their Bible
    and burned alive
    my ashes came down like snow
    and a girl who had never seen my face
    saw me falling from the sky
    and laid down on her back to make an angel
    in the powder of my bones

    From heaven, I watched her,
    ‘though my eyes were still flame
    and my ribs were still blue,
    they didn’t win, I whispered
    as her arms built my wings
    they didn’t win

    Look at that moon
    it is a pebble in my hand
    tonight, I could skip it across that fog-drunk sea
    to the lashes accordion in the night
    and all they know of hate
    is that it couldn’t beat the love out of me
    that when they dropped me to the grave,
    I fell like a bucket in to a well
    and came up full;
    carving my lover’s name in to the skin of a weeping willow
    that had spent its entire life laughing at the rain

    Hold me like a lantern;
    staircase my spine
    When they bring the children to my funeral
    to scream faggot at my dust
    tell them
    I was born in to their casket
    but I wouldn’t pull the splinters from my heart
    any more than Christ
    would’ve pulled the thorns from his crimson head

    ...

    Write me down like this:
    say my ashes never made the news;
    say the jury was full of shotguns
    and say the snow that fell on the tip of your tongue
    refused to melt away
    say this
    to the kids hiding their heart beats
    from their father’s fists
    I planted the garden of my kiss;
    I opened the night with my teeth;
    I loved so hard that when they pressed their ear to the track,
    the train they hear coming will still be my chest -
    a rumbling harpoon; a sky they can not bury

    Look at that moon
    I am a pebble in her hand;
    a harmonica held to the mouth of the river where
    nothing
    ever
    burns

    - Andrea Gibson

      Current date/time is Fri Jun 21, 2024 1:12 am