Micro Stories · Shadow Poetry

i act like i need it

I stared at the words written on the wall for hours without ever seeing them.

The warmth of the day bloomed in me until all I knew were the leaves above in their muted dance.

And my lips recognized the lyrics before my thoughts did. Paint splashing against the wall of my heart. Your voice reverberating through the hollows of my dreams.

You follow me into the empty. Crushing colored glass under my toes in paradise, some sense of you leading me forward.

I can feel you breathing beneath my skin, I see you speak every time I close my eyes.

And there’s this buzz, deep in my flesh. Past the marrow and into the atomic darkness, hidden where the dancing lights of misery and joy fight. It puts a gun in my mouth one second. A love letter the next. Because I remember.

I have to feel it. So I wake up.

And you’re not there.

Shadow Poetry

Swan Song

love

is exposing

the soft

fragile

fleshy

belly


and hoping they don’t

tear into it

it is a mad dash

to expose your throat

before your head reminds you

you’re made of paper machet

all it takes

is a tiny little

blade

to open your throat

bleed you out

again.


love

is knowing better

handing them your secrets

anyway

heart throwing down

that gauntlet

head standing on the breaks

when you’re alreading

in the fast lane

afraid

it might be too late

to slow down

now

you might cause a head on collision

getting in the car

shrugging


love

is unzipping the skin

from your bones

while standing

in a live minefield

abruptly aware

your neck is on the line


moments to decide

moments to decide


but your thoughts

are not

thinking right

lungs can’t remember

the best way to

breathe

trying to paint you nails

in a sling

on a bus

in an unfamiliar country

where no one

speaks your langauge


love

is splashes

of paint

linking the cemetery

you

keep

visiting

almost a silent prayer

don’t leave my heart here

again.


waiting just under

the over hang

one person’s smile

making your umbrella

seem ridiculous


stepping into the rain

faith that the rain will

stop before

your courage runs

only

now you find

it’s not rain

it’s hail

the size

of fists

opening the cardboard boxes

you duct taped

into your closet

but funny you should ask

my closet never had any

water

damage


and i’m saying

you

again

instead of me


love is like that

new neural network

which you thought came with schematics

blueprints

an idea

a plan

scribbled onto a napkin

at the very least

something


a smile

into the vast

void

simmering underneath

your eyelashes

in between your joints

settled in muscle tissue

and decorating

or maybe love isn’t decorating at all

it might be

it could be

perhaps love

is raking desperate claws

down your

wallpaper

exposing the canker

and pus

so you

can pull it out

finding all your seems

picking at the ends

until the

mismatching thread

becomes

obvious

so you can buy

some new colors

let the old ones go

taking all the dust

in your vaccum

making a pillow fight

out of it

so you can sweep it outside

this

time

breaking the ugly dishes

you don’t know

why

you kept

they have cracks and memories

in them anyway

now you can

make new ones

from star dust

and black and white stills

burning all your trophies

so you can finally

see they were chains

flaxen cords

oxen’s yoke

keeping you tied

bound to ghosts

causing cold spots

and nightmares


it’s okay

love states

i killed them for you

they cannot stalk

cannot hook your collarbone

to grave markers

cannot stuff your comforter

with lead

not anymore

i removed them for you

they cannot stain

cannot moan into your ear

while you drift into slumber

cannot speak your name

and pull you under

not ever again

i will guard the

holes in your armour


it’s okay

love declares

they will never own your

sobs

again


now you can

wipe them away

I will sit in the

expanse of unknown

right beside you

and when they bring their

pitchforks

and reason

i will hand you

your heart

from within my chest

so you can battle

your demons

with the truth in your gun

one in the chamber.


love is

trying to forget

what love is

because hug it close

now

and you might

have to sew

its dead jaw shut

put it in a box

in the ground

again


love is

creation and decay

and the moment

the moment

you recognize

love’s seed

you have

a moment to decide


a moment to decide


ironic little moments

they

never tell the

full

truth

love

is

the moment

the very moment

you flatline

and the

forever

you wake up to


By Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

Love

Eyes that shine blood red

In the dark

Watching

Waiting

For the underbelly to be exposed

Fangs to know

Claws to reason

 

Run, they said

But the creatures

Lurking in the hollows of our nightmares

They are so very hard to break

And my hands are already so dirty

Necromance me

 

Fun Stuff/ Research

Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl – Love and Loyalty

The city I live in has more Mexican restaurants than graves. There’s this fantastic one that I am in love with. Just thinking about it makes me want to swoon on over and order something. If only I had money, transportation, or a gut that likes human food.

*slams head into wall*

*sobs*

*why can’t my gut love Mexican food like I do*

*wails*

 

Anywho.

In every single restaurant, I noticed the same painting. Which got me curious. The myth lover in me knew there had to be a good story behind it.

I looked it up.

There’s a good story behind it.

 

The painting is of Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl.

They are the names of two volcanoes visible in Mexico City, which are more than 17,000 feet high. They’re the second and third highest mountains in Mexico.

Iztaccihuatl means “White Woman” because the mountains are always snow capped. The mountain, which has four peaks, looks like the silhouette of a lady lying on her back. Hence the name. Though, people typically refer to it as “Sleeping Woman”.

Popocatepetl means “Smoking Mountain” and is still an active volcano.

The two are connected by a mountain pass named Paso de Cortes.

But that’s not what’s interesting.

 

At first, my only thoughts were that Popo and Izta have quite the tragic love story. I thought it was less love story and more tragedy. But a few days later, after having mulled it over, I realized I really like this story. And I do think it’s a tragedy. But I think it is certainly a love story.

Oh, and I’m going to shorten their names to Izta and Popo because so far I have failed at typing their names correctly. I gave up and copy and pasted their names. No laughing.

 


Izta was the princess; daughter of the ruler. Her lover, Popo, wasn’t allowed to marry her until he went into battle and defeated his enemy.

So off went Popo to fight and Izta awaited his triumphant return.

Popo was victorious, killing their enemies. (Yay!)

But someone told Izta that Popo had not only failed but had died. (not yay)

Some versions of the story say this devious someone was a rival of Popo’s. Others state it as a jealous man who wanted Izta for himself. Regardless, the effect was the same.

Izta fell sick and died from a broken heart. And then Popo popped in to find the love of his life dead because of a lie.

He carries her body to the mountains and builds a pyre for the both of them. He kneels in front of her and dies.

In some versions, Popo remained there to watch over her in her sleep for so long that the snow covered them both and they became volcanoes. In others, the gods were so moved by the love the two shared and the tragedy of their deaths, that they turned Popo and Izta into mountains so they would be together forever.

Regardless, Popo now kneels, facing Izta who lies sleeping, for as long as this earth stands.


 

What I like about this story is – love wins. It may be a bit out of the box. But this story is different than most. They’re together. Forever.

Popo didn’t come home and go on a crazy rampage, killing and maiming out of rage. He focused on his lady. I found that quite interesting. Especially since Popo was a warrior.

I love that he was done. As if his life was over now that she was gone. I wish we had more love like that these days. Love that shows and isn’t all about flashy and hollow gestures.

(I don’t recommend anyone jumps off a bridge or offs themselves when their lover dies. I’m simply commenting on this as a story.)

I really enjoy that this popular legend surrounds love surviving all – even death. It’s all over Mexican restaurants. I love that there’s a celebration of a love story all over the city I live in, in the details.

 

Also, why do all old legends and myths surround everyone that’s in love, dying??? Can we answer that question please?

 

Anywho. Here are some photos of the two volcanoes.

 

Popocatepetl

popocatepetl-777688_1920

popocatepetl-1755981_1920

 

Iztaccihuatl

iztaccihuatl-777766_1920

volcano-2818457_1920

 

Sources

http://www.mexonline.com/history-popo.htm

https://www.inside-mexico.com/the-legend-of-popocatepetl-iztaccihuatl/

Shadow Poetry

Hi, My Toe Tag Says Daphne

 

When there is nothing to separate the night from the day

No borders in the ether

No fences about our cells

No boundaries for our skin

 

We are lost

No sun

No moon

Yes

No

They disappear

Only void

Emptiness

 

Everything the same

Words without meaning

Form without shape

 

When we only know the lack of walls

The terror of free falling

We don’t even wonder

Are those lipstick marks or bruises?

 

There is no distinction

Only blind attempts

Empty phrases

Hollow veins

 

We don’t realize

We are all in the morgue

Shuffling about

In dull hospital gowns

Bare feet and teeth unbrushed

Pretending to have a pulse

 

 

by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

Like Clockwork

I wish I could

Reach into your chest

Hold your heart

And breathe life

Into your skin

 

If only my tongue

Told stories with

Answers instead of

Questions

 

Maybe if I used the

Whispers hiding inside…

 

But they don’t want

To show themselves

Outside my skin.

 

I keep forgetting…

 

But I cannot

Remember

 

Sometimes I wish

So deeply that I forget

It’s a wish

 

And then I forget

It’s there at all

 

 

By Daphne Shadows