ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
to me, you became a matter
of timing and space: how long
until you left and how far
would you go? in the learning,
i left behind
the howling of coyotes
and summer hail for the lonely
ocean; i was not there when
you left, too.
there is still farther to go.
for you, i became a field.
i grew the sadness in me like
a monster, nursed it like a secret,
cradled it like a lover, let
it out only while you were in
the other room. i held you pressed
into the creases of my elbows
and lined your home
with heart cells.
still, i do not miss you like i should.
you said: this is far enough
and this will be my home now. you
brought out your grave and showed it
to me, spoke of the life you did
not regret, something i know nothing
about. i found you too late and
left too often, but you always knew
me when i came back. i wanted you
to be with me always, even
as i let you go.
i hope the pacific soul is yours forever.
i hope that you are happy still.
of timing and space: how long
until you left and how far
would you go? in the learning,
i left behind
the howling of coyotes
and summer hail for the lonely
ocean; i was not there when
you left, too.
there is still farther to go.
for you, i became a field.
i grew the sadness in me like
a monster, nursed it like a secret,
cradled it like a lover, let
it out only while you were in
the other room. i held you pressed
into the creases of my elbows
and lined your home
with heart cells.
still, i do not miss you like i should.
you said: this is far enough
and this will be my home now. you
brought out your grave and showed it
to me, spoke of the life you did
not regret, something i know nothing
about. i found you too late and
left too often, but you always knew
me when i came back. i wanted you
to be with me always, even
as i let you go.
i hope the pacific soul is yours forever.
i hope that you are happy still.
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.
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?
Suggested Collections
all i could do was cry and cry and cry and let you leave.
♥
♥
Comments7
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
My goodness, this is painful and real. A gem, for sure. I've been missing your work.