Post by saore on Apr 7, 2014 15:00:58 GMT -6
Game of Thrones
- first edit
It's one of those days
when I think I'll sink into a frozen lake
where paper ships are torched,
and I sit long inside
my last sorrow, and the earth
is lonely, and the Game of Thrones
is over, and I leave this winter
parfait to the ravens.
It’s one of those days
when my dragons spit fire
and swirl without end, and I absorb
the outline of a snowy owl
on a branch, and the minutes
he sleeps holding her right breast
in his left hand, and my dragons spit
more fire than the pyre I march on
searching for the reasons he pushed
me off the wall.
It’s one of those days
when I see wolves eating
the carcasses of pigs,
and I see many throats inside one
throat swallowing a shattered mirror,
like that one day when he fucked me
so hard I shivered and wept and laughed
and shivered and wept and laughed
again and again until the voices died down
and he left, and I put him in a poem,
and it rained.
Game of Thrones
It's one of those days
when I think I'll sink into a frozen
lake where paper ships
are torched, and I sit long inside
my last sorrow, and the earth
is lonely, and the game of thrones
is over, and I leave this winter
parfait to the ravens.
It’s one of those days
when my dragons spit fire
and swirl without end, and I absorb
the outline of a snowy owl
on a branch, and the minutes
he sleeps holding her right breast
in his left hand, and my dragons spit
more fire than the pyre I march on
searching for the reasons he pushed
me off the wall.
It’s one of those days
when I see wolves (tamed from birth)
eating the carcass of pigs,
and I see many throats inside one
throat swallowing a shattered mirror,
like that one day when he fucked me
so hard I shivered and wept and laughed
and shivered and wept and laughed
again and again until the voices died down
and he left, and I put him in a poem,
and it rained.
- first edit
It's one of those days
when I think I'll sink into a frozen lake
where paper ships are torched,
and I sit long inside
my last sorrow, and the earth
is lonely, and the Game of Thrones
is over, and I leave this winter
parfait to the ravens.
It’s one of those days
when my dragons spit fire
and swirl without end, and I absorb
the outline of a snowy owl
on a branch, and the minutes
he sleeps holding her right breast
in his left hand, and my dragons spit
more fire than the pyre I march on
searching for the reasons he pushed
me off the wall.
It’s one of those days
when I see wolves eating
the carcasses of pigs,
and I see many throats inside one
throat swallowing a shattered mirror,
like that one day when he fucked me
so hard I shivered and wept and laughed
and shivered and wept and laughed
again and again until the voices died down
and he left, and I put him in a poem,
and it rained.
Game of Thrones
It's one of those days
when I think I'll sink into a frozen
lake where paper ships
are torched, and I sit long inside
my last sorrow, and the earth
is lonely, and the game of thrones
is over, and I leave this winter
parfait to the ravens.
It’s one of those days
when my dragons spit fire
and swirl without end, and I absorb
the outline of a snowy owl
on a branch, and the minutes
he sleeps holding her right breast
in his left hand, and my dragons spit
more fire than the pyre I march on
searching for the reasons he pushed
me off the wall.
It’s one of those days
when I see wolves (tamed from birth)
eating the carcass of pigs,
and I see many throats inside one
throat swallowing a shattered mirror,
like that one day when he fucked me
so hard I shivered and wept and laughed
and shivered and wept and laughed
again and again until the voices died down
and he left, and I put him in a poem,
and it rained.