s o n d e r ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

b l a m e l e s s

b l a m e l e s s
/ˈblāmləs/
adjective
innocent of wrongdoing.

some day
someone will make love to carnival of the animals XIII. the swan

and it will be my hearts desire
to be loved in such a soothing way
i think that every man that has loved, hasn't truly been loved in this way

the song is deep and passionate
it's like God pulling on strings
it's like the heavens sing
it's like she's come home to fall, come winter, turned spring
it's like she had admired all of those broken things

and painted her love
with no smock
she smeared her love
all over the art she would soon swoon for

and they make their love sweet
there is nothing sour about making love to yo-yo ma

I laugh because it's silly
i had this thought
at the virgin age of sixteen

i thought
i let the music make love to me
until someone will see
the hopeless literature of my life
and find me
and i will welcome them
inside of me

that the way it feels to be intertwined with a body
is the same way you may be raveled in someone's mind
and interlocked with your hands
when you take a walk at midnight

and i may admire the moon
while i stand holding the sun in my eyes

i was meant to love someone in this way
and i fear for the day my love was taken away
what was sweet
turned bitter
turned soledad
turned mistake

my life suddenly
in his hands
he takes me
and tips his glass

i wonder
is there any love here?

i knew i should have backed away
but i kneeled down to the boy who did not want to make love to sweet songs from above

i gave him my flowers
and my music instead

and he told me
his name

unknowingly, I smiled at the devil
"hello, blame."

there is no one to blame
for the way
my stomach
aches
and twists in knots

when i think of the words i spoke
and then soon forgot
that those words
may have been
an anchor
to sink me within

his
those words
are forever his

and i will show you the memory
i will lay it down
in complete

i don't always remember properly
and as the trauma deepens
and i inhale with each living breath
i remind myself
i must put this memory to rest
i am not going to bask
in the darkness
for much longer
i will not be
the person
that lets the sun
shine only outwardly
i will save some shine
for the dusted fixtures
and old stories
i put up on a shelf within myself
i will save the shine
for words that felt like velvet
and lips that kiss like wine
and hands that are
at most
gentle
and kind

these hands were taught
by a good friend of mine

there once was a wolf, and his name
is blame
he eats people alive
he goes out
hunting at night
looking for someone to consume
with a bitter bite
he may find
that i was weak
that i was meant to be struck
that i am deserving of this twist of luck
that i am to be a descendant of lonely
and a defeated sinner
i am to be the person he consumes
for dinner
i am to be
the luckless loser
the losing winner
of his hand

he may take not my hand
he may hurt the person inside
he may not
he may not
but it will not stop

his hand
and only his hand
touches
the very thing that differentiates
the glass he tilts to forget me
and my hourglass
that does not feel enticing or sensual
but feels like a throat filled with sand
he may
but he can't
he will
and he has
taken my own glass
in his hands
in his arms
i was taught to be safe
i did not feel it