Athirst

This is pretty much a metaphor for the the journey of self discovery of realizing I was a Poet

I'd rather you

see this as

bittersweet

rather than

a tragedy

Words sink

into the cracks
in your lips

Because you'd

come and see me
sitting in the ash

and resting on

the sunrise

Yet I couldn't help
but be pushed
between your
spine

Echoing through
like the snapping of bones

My lungs are flooding

I'm bleeding fire
and rotten fruit

I prayed that you'd
string me up to dry
in the heat like
rose petals

But I write it in
indelible ink

Stuff it between
the spaces where
my soul and skin meet

In my deepest suffering

I saw my soul splattered
with every violent color
until I was nothing
but rotting prose
and broken sentences

That were stolen
from my rib cage

So I sat alone
at the edge of my

souls universe

Resting myself in a coffin
closing the lid and nestling
up to my own corpse

But you see

I don't mind
eating my heart raw
because

Because I love
the teeth marks
on my bones

You see there are days

when poetry screams
and my veins are

too agonizingly

thin to hold

the weight

I collapse into

Poetry

Because I was born to
embrace pain and
disappointment

Birthing art
from eternal woes
of ages of pathos

Making suffering
into a beautiful truth

Silver-soft words
I’ve been gagging on
preform in a dance of darkness
illuminating the night

Yet to truly
grasp what
pain is

Is to know
it crumbles
words to dust
like broken souls

And the eons of tears
yearning to speak to me
are too vast to loop
with letters because

Because it takes
days upon days
For words to line up

You see

I don't want to write
something you slurp down
and forget like yesterdays
breakfast

My words should
make you choke a little

Break your heart
be like spears and fish bones
in your bloodstream
that touch you so deep
that you will finally

Finally love yourself

But

People burn
and we ask
for the name
of the fire

Can't you see

Can't you understand

I could be anything

Yet

I still

choose
to be poetry

Raw & unedited

I open my heart
the way I open my eyes
illuminated for a second
scars and fresh wounds
fully exposed

I am the meek
melodic multitude
of long suffering
for artistry

You see

I thirst
to swallow
pain in sips
like its the last drop
because it tastes
like poetry

By Samantha Pruitt

Author's Note

My longer poetry usually reads through rather quickly. But this poem was purposely written in a way that has a slower pace forcing the reader to take their time.
Keeping in line with "I don't want to write something you slurp down and forget like yesterdays breakfast"

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Samantha, you are right.
"Because I was born to
embrace pain and
disappointment"
I am old now and I have known you for many moons. We have learn many things. Did we learn enough? Please send read requests. I love your work. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry my dear friend.
Coyote

[Kathleen Montgomery]

Interesting. Yeah, you take a slower pace with this. It is a nice pace. Interesting mood.

[Chris]

I agree with your author's note... and I wandered your lines and thoughts slowly - with intent.

[John the Baptist]

A very skillful use of imagery in this one. The poet makes us feel her attitude toward poetry with her unusual word pictures. Very well done.