vienna, with love

visual poetry by Caroline Grand-Clement

vienna, with love

i.

 

i dreamt of you

playing piano

which is how i know

everything was a lie.

 

i wake up

in love

with the wrong

you.

 

ii.

 

you’re the girl who cried wolf

                       & found bones instead

a graveyard shift ended too early.

 

can’t you hear the dancing?

the skeleton in your closet

knocking against ballroom mirrors.

 

they’re coming for you. better

 

run.

 

iii.

 

maybe if we could get out of these bodies we could let them meet once more.

early on i learned it couldn’t hurt if i didn’t scream,

& spent the rest of my breaths biting down on my lips.

 

iv.

 

& HOW THE BODY IS STILL THERE & DIFFERENT

& SO MUCH OF THE SAME. HOW IT BREAKS

YOUR HEART WHEN YOUR LIMBS COLLIDE

ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN A MUSEUM

COUNTRIES AWAY FROM YOUR DEAD LOVE.

 

how do you keep from going

straight into safety’s arms?

 

my body turns into yours

until you are all i am left.

 

v.

 

we use the same chapstick again

but it doesn’t make me want to cry

so much anymore. my heart’s been

broken since you. (but since her too.)

 

imagine:

hoping like the sky in our lungs

until the sky turns to smoke

& chokes us out.

Caroline Grand-Clement is a queer eighteen-year-old studying English & Scandinavian literature in Lyon, France. She dreams of art in any form, falling stars & late night conversations. She hopes to make a change in the world one word at a time. You can find her on Twitter, Tumblr or Instagram @octopodeshearts.

Caroline Grand-Clement

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