Onto Martyred Parchment

Onto Martyred Parchment

A Poem by Julianna Marie

We were held (like this)
by invisible strings tied to invisible wrists,
so that when we
shook,
we shook
the same.

Strung up like marionettes to one another's previous lives,
The past called and was shaking from withdrawals,
cooing in our ears like a phone sex operator,
begging us to spend the night.
She kept us awake,
coughing up blood
and tossing her body
like a knife.

Strung up like marionettes,
we were held (like this,)
so that when we
dance,
we dance
the same.

The past called and our graphite scars activated the blank spots 
of our bodies
like the blank spots
of our pages,
and our skin stung with Iodine.

Does old furniture have ghosts?
Inanimate objects begging us
to feel,
fishlines of intimacy begging us
to dance,
strung up by our invisible strings on our invisible wrists,
so that when we bleed
(onto martyred parchment,)
we bleed
the same.

A poet cannot be a poet
if the poet
is in love.

© 2011 Julianna Marie



Author's Note

Julianna Marie
unfinished

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Reviews

I have no idea what this poem was about, but
I sense it`s majesty. It has a regal touch.
Your verbage is spectacular and you obviously
are a gifted poet.
Now to check you out for other writing.
------ Eagle Cruagh

Posted 6 Years Ago



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Added on September 6, 2011
Last Updated on September 6, 2011

Author

Julianna Marie
Julianna Marie

Seattle, WA



About
I'm a 21 year old girl living in Seattle, student/poet/barista. I believe in art, poetry, psychology, and music-- I don't think its safe to believe in much else. more..

Writing