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Literature Text
- i met darkness in a coffee shop. he was sitting
at a booth and his tired eyes
looked surprised when i slid into the seat
across from him; he said nothing
and i noted that he was younger
than millennia, no older than
seventeen and i wondered why i'd always thought of him as
something ancient. he looked lonely, i thought, like
something left behind. it broke my heart
without me really knowing why.
i think he knew how much i wanted to ask
him; about everything and all things
(which, he later informed me,
are actually different) and the things in between.
but i kept quiet and stared out the window with him as hours
passed and the sun rose and fell. and when the shadows lined
the street he got up and whispered
i've got to leave. i watched him go because
i knew i'd see him again.
(there was a sort of camaraderie between us -
i guess it was because we were two people who just needed
someone)
Literature
but the stars are too loud to hear them
it's a summer night again. i think
it has been a million years since i lived
through a summer night.
everything is so much louder in summer,
the windows thrown wide and the whole world
shouting, echoing up from the street,
and that screaming aching space between the window pane
and my heart, where
the late scent of lilacs
burrowed, where your hands clawed at the glass
and i let you in
with the breeze and the laughing
cinquefoil faces.
where is the dull neglectable roar,
washed away in the sweet tides of everything blooming,
new colors crying out for the stars
to fall on their petals,
and lift them up,
and let them in
to the bleak brightness
Literature
Rolling
Rolling, frothing sea,
Raging like the storm in my mind.
The waves clap like thunder,
But no one else can feel the storm.
Finally the curtain closes,
The lights come back on,
And a zephyr calms the air.
Literature
if i could invent words
i would like to create a word
for what one feels
when they realize:
if we were birds, the only cage
we would be in
are the ones
we create ourselves. how many times
have our wings
been clipped
by our own hands
alone. christ, i'm sorry.
dear past self:
i apologize
for trying to define you;
for definition
is the metaphorical cage
to change. the only limit
the sky has
is how far
we can see.
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fascinating topic, I enjoyed this very much