To My Youth. {poetry}
I hope you laugh
And shatter the starlight in your eyes
Like each breath
That hangs like dusty spines
And gallows
Like nostrils that swamp your fear to ink
To word wet upon your teeth
I hope you howl
With the moonlight draped upon your tongue
And ignite your lips
Pulsing
And swilled scarlet
With the night’s fervent kiss
A youth drowned upon your breath
I hope you shout
And fell mountains around your ears
I hope you gasp the color blue
And paint watercolor of your gentle lungs
I hope you flood your gentle breast
With wild breath
And sunspot life
And ornery lust upon your lip
And I hope you tend the dreams
Like veins beneath your wrists
That spill into sweat
Into soul
And I hope you lace your breath
With their quiet courage
Like dandelions
I hope you turn your gaze to your bones
Like blush
And watch into ashes they burn
Into flame
Into skin
That trembles to taste completion thereupon your wrinkled brow
I hope you capture
The itch in your woman’s palms
With the flutter of your holy blink
When you melt upon his lover lips
And know that you have found
The breast that beats
In perfect plight upon your own
In worship strewn about your dimpled hips
Like divinity
I hope you arch your spine
And thrust sweet limbs upon the sky
And I hope you tear your flesh from bone
Like rose petals and damnation
And I hope you, darling,
Are never afraid to sew your wounded flesh
With whispered baby’s breath
And the sunshine of your smile
I hope you never tame your wild hips
And always breathe
With the hymn of passion
Poured white upon your teeth
I hope you taste the world that grows upon your ribs
And sew wonder in your gait
I hope you sway
Like the moonlight that slumbers in your hair
And wake the beast
That bleeds masts of your wilting heart
In this fledgling earth
Like tongue
Like breast
I hope you paint your cheeks
With the deep red pain that quells your winged throat
And I hope you pluck their limbs of softened gild
From atop your noble skin
And tend to them
Like the wildflowers that grow your woman’s grin
I hope you tangle infinity in your sorceress hands
And breathe heady of its musk
A perfume stained upon your scalding wraith
Like shadows
That taste of yellowed elegance
And time
I hope you laugh
Rich and jeweled upon the world
Like a pearl that breeds beauty
And life and utter breath
With the years that tend your gorging flesh
I hope you shatter
Boldly into mountaintop teeth
And never forget
Your crystalline smile
Ever so much more beautiful
For the life that trickles in its cracks
And whispers secrets sewn
Of the stuttered past
To the freckles on your nose
I hope your laughter tastes
Like wine
And stains burgundy the fragile wind
I hope you break upon the world
And never forget
That you, my dear,
Are a torrid mile
Of ancient bones
Sweated into utter grace
And sweet moon-skin.
***
Emily Purcell views writing as an orgasmic means of self-destruction and the truest form of beauty to tangibly exist: as a salve of ink and eloquence to soothe her soul. She first realized that she could write when her 7th grade teacher brought her dog to class and told her to “Write a story about her! Get to it!” and hasn’t looked back. Poetry, she believes, chooses its vessels into written word from birth and that she was gifted its scarlet essence, born with the extraordinary duty to be that medium. When asked why she writes, Emily answers, “It is how I know. It is how I breathe.” Emily thrives from written word and it often consumes her into the wee hours of the night. It burns electric in her veins and she seeks only to ignite the world with it: a monumental task, but a goal that finds its sinew atop her bones. She is a student in her home state of Virginia and enjoys emails, feedback, and any correspondence with others! You can reach her via email and follow her on Instagram.
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