I want to make it what you want it to be.

[xunpredictablel]

|Title| Untitled.
|Rating| PG13, again - to be safe.
|Theme| -
|Notes| I want to know what you guys get out of it.

And you dance.
Your body twists, writhes in a sway so unnatural.
I hear your bones cracking,
A testament to your pain.

And you scream.
A lifeless, drifting scream, creases in the skin around your eyes.
Your eyes- they haunt my nightmares.

And you fall.
Your hands reach up to a broken window; shards at your feet.
Fingertips press at the points, a spot of crimson forms.
Red stains taint the clear.

And open hands.
Your hands always open, lingering just above my skin.
Threats that scare me into my blankets.

And you drift.
Into darkness, your memories lurking below the surface.
Breaking just when you have a normal life.

Where are you?
Little girl stalks the beddress...
She tugs at the cloth, too small to see across the bed.
Can you feel the gently tug underneath your body,
or are your dreams too heavy against your breast?

You're scared - it's obvious in your demeanor.
Slouched shoulders, dark circles around your eyes, slurred voice.

Question yourself. Will you let the little girl fall from grace?
Have you already?
Or will realization grow from your throats like a flower with thorns-
Scorning against your skin.

Don't be scared of the sting.
Crimson won't stain you like you stain yourself. Can you sacrifice your gluttonous comfort for her smiling face- perfection against the darkness?

You try to tell me but your tongue feels severed.

[Alicia's Ghost]

Again, this utter sensation of taboo, of forbidden arts that you ache to simply pull apart and see beneath. There's something beautiful in the forbidden, something completey exotic, and I cannot help think that perhaps you are the one being represented by the girl, by the innocence in this one, and in the last one. Which begs the question of what, or who is seeing, and wanting what it knows it can't have.

From a purely 2nd pov, and from my own eyes, if I were to take the 'you' personally, I would say that I am the man looking upon. ------------------------------

I take that all back. Well, most of it. Yes, there's that forbidden, but it's not something that's being craved, it's not looming, but a sinuous whisper of what might be. That child is the future, the little forked posibility sent down as a reminder as her gentle tugging nudges you to wakefulness though you may sleep too deeply to heed the warning. I'M COMING, I'M COMING, I seem to see in that little tugging, though she cannot see above the bed. There may be three instead of two, and it may drive them both mad as they dance circles around each other, not just with their carefully avoidant words, but their touch.

I want you, but cannot have you -- for fear has locked you up, puts a strain where before perhaps there had not been pain.
I scream, and the wildness in my eyes pushes you further away.
I want to touch you, but you back up, frightened of the possibilities.
I wander, submerged by the memories of past wounds, not understanding this rift between us.

Will I leave you, scorn you, destroy you... or make room for you, let you grow from flower to twisting vine, to the glorious unfurling of a tree, with roots so deep and steady. You want that stability, you crave it for her -- always for her -- and you are not used to thinking in terms of her. Selfishness has given way and you have no where to turn but to me, and the me in the poem is frightened of giving up that much of myself. Have I been harmed as a child, does the threat of you loving someone else more than me undo my nerves? Can I stretch and give shadow to a little garden at my feet, or will I sleep through haunted memories and block out the gentle tugging at my sheets, at my shirts, at my fingers --like little fish nibbling at my fingernails? Emotions knot me up, and I cannot speak to you, frightened of you, of it, of the little girl that talks through your mouth.

The poem is amazing on it's own, and the way in which it swings back and forth -- reminding me of a child's swing -- seems to bring out the meaning. It took me a little while, which I adored... I love having to read a poem more than once to fully get it's meaning, and hopefully I did not mess up too much -- but t here is a strength in that little bit of information that seems to have been growing from the very first word of the poem, and blossoms against at the end. It's not intense, but subtle, and the subtlety is what makes this poem so fitting for the topic.

On that note, I do hope you're okay...