inkstaineddove

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fathers daughter by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

fathers daughter

I watch my father tear apart the skin of a clementine and find myself wondering what else his hands have done. The answers I both fear and know, could intuit from the moment I took my first breath. Enigmatic but familiar, as all parents are. But I know where he buried the bodies. At least, I think I do. Does he know where mine are found? Buried where my grandfather’s orange tree proudly stood before, like all things, the parasites claimed it. And when my father looks me in the eyes, with the impish smirk of a boy off to the principals, I believe he does. And I know that if he is to be condemned to hell, or whatever torments li

my phantom lover by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

my phantom lover

and you know, i still dream of key west and a little home just for us, a couple of cats and a dog in our bed and i'd like to shake you out of my head, but it seems you've drilled into my marrow, polluted my bloodstreams. been that way since we first met. aren't we both happy now? and, anyways, you're hundreds of miles away and i'm stuck, perpetually clinging to history best left forgotten. my foolish heart, betraying me, forces me to reach over and i imagine our fingers touch, heart reverberating in my chest. daydreams go up in smoke. what i grab is rough, scarred where you once were soft. if i said i'd rid myself of you, would you believe it? that what holds me back is fear of fucking closure? you know me, all i want to do is blame you and your lack of timely answers than on my lack of courage or childish nostalgia. in the cemetery that lives inside me there is a grave for you besides all my other ill fated lovers. but it's another delusion. yours is the immortal

new york state of mind by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

new york state of mind

there's something soothing about being nobody. there's a calming aura emanating from the faceless crowds that aim to swallow you whole. the masses remind that you are nothing, it doesn't matter, just try to keep up. you can lose yourself in that. you can remember what it's like to be free. maybe they're rude with their ready-made insults and a middle finger on display. they don't suffer fools and their displeasure can fill summer night stadiums. but, when all around you is a southern breeze that doesn't like to make itself felt, that thinks every conversation is a game of chess or a play with multiple hidden meanings, you appreciate blu

for persephone by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

for persephone

i. Loneliness mixed with a lazy stillness hangs over the room. There is nowhere to go, no one to talk to but the cicadas humming all around. Its tiring, being stuck with only your thoughts, but there's a peace to it. An understanding that this is healing, letting the phoenix rise from the ashes the sun created to become stronger for the next year. You hope the newly forged armor will last. ii. There's smoke in the air, voices crying out, but I can't tell the cause. Pleasure or pain, it doesn't matter, both lead to pointless wars. It's in these dying breaths of summer, the renewed chills of the winter that I feel glory and infamy brus

The Path to Glory by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

The Path to Glory

Potsdam, 1756 Gilbert watched the man before him pace the room in rapture. The king's left hand was gripped tight around his cane, his eyes glued on a map of Central Europe and letters from spies detailing intelligence from various foreign courts. He cursed under his breath. "She's still fucking upset about Silesia." He grumbled. Gilbert sat up straight. A wicked grin cut across his face. "Don't you worry about a thing, Fritz! If we were able to kick her ass last time then we'll be able to do it again! You're the best military strategist they've seen! The Austrians must be clutching their pearls knowing they'll be facing off against Prussia

like a young god by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

like a young god

desperation clings to me. i am forever in search of a legacy that will never come to me unless, somehow, i set myself free. but what is 'free' when all i've known is the shackles of the past, connecting me to events and memories i no longer wish to be tethered to, no longer want to bring me down into this cruel reality? if there were a god, She would've made this world a little nicer, a little kinder for the outcasts, for those tossed aside like annoying crumbs clinging stubbornly to you. what is the point in turning oneself into marble? what's the point of creating yourself into myth when we don't even remember the names, much less the

hephaestus incarnate by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

hephaestus incarnate

thank the lord that i am not a god for, if i was, the world would end in fire. my rage would swallow you up whole, rendering you weak to my tyrannical feast. the land would be scorched beneath me. how beautiful the blaze would be. i'd make sure to leave you with nothing, sweet nothing to allow even the hope of survival. i'd want to see you dancing, helpless in the embers, praying to me for the ultimate salvation. i'd let the flames consume you. they'd make a snack out of my measly seconds, my washed up lover, my half-baked romance. i wouldn't cry. i'd warm myself in their glow, whisper you a eulogy of 'good riddance.' be thankful t

The Difference Between Nations by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

The Difference Between Nations

Alfred sighed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Do we really have to go to this? It sounds so lame, dude." He adjusted his bowtie and attempted to flatten down his cowlick. He rolled his eyes, frustrated at its persistence to defy gravity. "A ball sounds really old and stuffy and like something that should've been left in the eighteen hundreds." Arthur stood at the sink, putting on some cologne. "We don't have to, but I'd prefer we're not the only two nations that skipped. People are talking about us enough between Trump and Brexit. We don't need any more bad press." He straightened up and put on his diamond cuff links. "It's a good

longing by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

longing

I thought I saw you standing there, without care. Eyes like topaz, smile as bright as a star. I learnt that my dreams could not be that fair. And, in reality, you were quite far. I tried to ignore the disappointment, But it was ever present, choking me daily. I cried and cried but it didn't help to vent. I continued to float around miserably. Soon I'd be relieved of my misfortune For you will be returned to my arms And the suffering will be forgotten. Peace will be restored when I'm under your charms. To be by your side is where I find joy. You are my one and only, golden boy.

my love, my salvation by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

my love, my salvation

i used to believe that my life would be relegated to one of constant loneliness, workaholic tendencies, and success that tastes pyrrhic. oh, how you've changed that. no longer do i doubt my worthiness of love and devotion. having a companion, someone i can find solace in, doesn't seem like a pipe dream. you've provided me with a hope that surpasses all others and a love that is all consuming. you are my light, my life, all my pretty cliches. to be without you is a fate i am sure to be worse than death. when i am without you, i constantly yearn for you and, when i'm with you, i try to drink up as much as i can, never quite getting enough

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my father a king, my lover a genius, i a fool by inkstaineddove, literature

Literature

my father a king, my lover a genius, i a fool

my heart belongs to men whose bodies have long been cold beneath the earth, who took their last breath many a century ago. i find myself, when i am alone late at night without another soul around, praying to a king i never knew. i wish for his guidance, his approval, his praise. when i whisper his name, it tastes like blood and iron and paternal. my kingly father is warm, stern, reflective, everything i had hoped my flesh and blood father could've been. i find long lost lovers in the pages of biographies. they reach out to me - calling my name, grabbing hold of my clothes to drag me down to them in between the pages. each one of them