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Literature Text
i. You have curled
yourself up and you are
living in within the speck of
your eye. You are hoping for
someone, anyone, to look
into your distant gaze and
bring you back.
Just look.
ii. Your heart is not breaking;
the air has been let out
and it is sinking.
Deeper and deeper.
You are drowning.
iii. I am hiding
the salty-tear taste of
your sorrow beneath my
tongue. I am waiting for
you to turn sweet.
Don't look for it.
You don't need it.
iv. You are existing
in lost glances and silent
words. You are living in
between now and then.
You are existing in mere
moments.
Expand yourself.
v. I am here
for you in pained tears
and clenched throats.
When your heart has been
extracted in a drugless surgery,
pulled still beating from your
bleeding chest cavity,
I will be here.
Don't cry.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Just live.
Please.
yourself up and you are
living in within the speck of
your eye. You are hoping for
someone, anyone, to look
into your distant gaze and
bring you back.
Just look.
ii. Your heart is not breaking;
the air has been let out
and it is sinking.
Deeper and deeper.
You are drowning.
iii. I am hiding
the salty-tear taste of
your sorrow beneath my
tongue. I am waiting for
you to turn sweet.
Don't look for it.
You don't need it.
iv. You are existing
in lost glances and silent
words. You are living in
between now and then.
You are existing in mere
moments.
Expand yourself.
v. I am here
for you in pained tears
and clenched throats.
When your heart has been
extracted in a drugless surgery,
pulled still beating from your
bleeding chest cavity,
I will be here.
Don't cry.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Just live.
Please.
Literature
distance
twin-headed imps cackle at pointless wars they start
pushing conflicted sides into each other while
refusing to allow a grey middle-ground this
endless battle of pristine and pitch
loses itself in the downcast eyes and
shaking bones of childlike minds fighting
to grow and
their skin sprouts streams like pegasus stepping
down to create springs but the ages-old symbol of purity is
no longer clean but tarnished rust and
each gentle slip is a sigh against waiting limbs that
tremble with anticipation and weigh down with guilt but
some addictions can't be warded off with words
and salt only stings
and the battleground is littered with broken bot
Literature
Hollow
Here amidst the bones bleached white,
the echoes become trapped in ribcages
like a heartbeat.
But it’s just a sound.
No blood pumps through the
marrow thick like
baby’s breath-
flowers for someone who is sick or dying or
dead.
No light shines
under the skin and muscle.
How dark it must be for the
delicate, fleshy bits underneath.
The lungs don’t know when it’s time to
go. No moon to guide them.
How do they know when to
stop?
Does the heart even know the color
of blood?
Literature
on the cusp
it is just that when i let go of you
when i let go
it's hard to remain that perfect without you.
--
the in-between of love, buds- so full of potential
our love is written in whispers on the pages
of a book which has not yet been opened.
--
that day, the sun had erased the last lines
of an unforgiving winter from my skin, i was renewed
olive skinned and feeling as if i had just fled the eternal
garden naked as i came- free, fallen.
--
the sky was dark;
nothing but the blood red smile of the moon
cut through the transient darkness of the night.
Suggested Collections
11:19pm
2/04/09
Yay, two in one day.
It doesn't really seem to fit together.
It doesn't even seem to be about the theme sorrow.
I guess that's what happens when you try to write with writer's block. =\
Entry three for my 100 Themes Challenge.
♥
2/04/09
Yay, two in one day.
It doesn't really seem to fit together.
It doesn't even seem to be about the theme sorrow.
I guess that's what happens when you try to write with writer's block. =\
Entry three for my 100 Themes Challenge.
♥
Comments15
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