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Literature Text
a night in
march
you called me and whispered lullabies
to ears that had never learned
to sleep so deeply;
dreams were a back splash,
an afterthought, an
i-wish-you'd-been-there
postcard that came in the mail
three days late.
you sang me to sleep
with songs about the moon
and the creatures that hunt it
and maybe, just a little,
i found solace in the sound of a voice
once upon a time in a window
far, far away.
on a morning in
april
you rang the doorbell
with flowers and bluebells
and birds were chirping, and let me tell you:
i've never seen a sight
so sweet my bones ached.
you were the sugar in my coffee and
butterfly kisses landed us
fairy-dust freedom
from the bedroom window we'd called
home.
a rainy
may
saw us searching for a cure to happiness
and yet we found none;
only laughter between lilies,
song inside silence
and the magic of a day that would always
stay golden.
and on a day in
october
we found meaning in the virtue
of leaves falling
and trailing their wisdom
of years
so far behind.
and you taught me of ghosts
and how they kiss you before you sleep,
putting lips on your forehead
and warmth in your dreams
and i fell asleep
feeling like bonfires were blazing
in my chest, and maybe
i fell a little in love
with the heat in my head.
but a time in
november
saw us reaching through bars made of
sudden silence,
of time left unanswered and
voices gone rusty
from non-use and not caring
of what was (un)said;
we whispered through bed sheets
through nights and through tears
that left us both
blinded and wishing for wells that once
had appeared in the darkest of corners;
but now we sat softly
and tread dizzy on eggshells left scattered
from counters left cluttered
and lost;
but it was a night in
december
when it all fell away
and the decaying feel of a love gone lost
left us twisting and swaying
on bars turned to
branches, turned to falling trees
felled in nights
left unanswered
and flown in the breeze
and it was then that the time we'd had
lost all meaning and
1 day in some year left us
spinning
and
drifting and
2 weeks of a
month left us
losing and aching and
6 moments of time,
s a t r d
c t e e
and wasted,
were lost in the dirt and left
to fester and wait
for the
59 seconds
it would take to be gathered up
but the
2 that mattered
were littered and lost in the dust
and it was then that we realized
this world is not golden, the bluebells
and buzzards leave so much unspoken;
we danced for so long
on these eggshells my feet have
turned red, but it was worth it for the nights
we'd spent staring at
stars in the driveway, learning to live in a new way
because the wind shoved us until we
answered; this love lost its luster but
the moments left
behind will shine
forevermore.
march
you called me and whispered lullabies
to ears that had never learned
to sleep so deeply;
dreams were a back splash,
an afterthought, an
i-wish-you'd-been-there
postcard that came in the mail
three days late.
you sang me to sleep
with songs about the moon
and the creatures that hunt it
and maybe, just a little,
i found solace in the sound of a voice
once upon a time in a window
far, far away.
on a morning in
april
you rang the doorbell
with flowers and bluebells
and birds were chirping, and let me tell you:
i've never seen a sight
so sweet my bones ached.
you were the sugar in my coffee and
butterfly kisses landed us
fairy-dust freedom
from the bedroom window we'd called
home.
a rainy
may
saw us searching for a cure to happiness
and yet we found none;
only laughter between lilies,
song inside silence
and the magic of a day that would always
stay golden.
and on a day in
october
we found meaning in the virtue
of leaves falling
and trailing their wisdom
of years
so far behind.
and you taught me of ghosts
and how they kiss you before you sleep,
putting lips on your forehead
and warmth in your dreams
and i fell asleep
feeling like bonfires were blazing
in my chest, and maybe
i fell a little in love
with the heat in my head.
but a time in
november
saw us reaching through bars made of
sudden silence,
of time left unanswered and
voices gone rusty
from non-use and not caring
of what was (un)said;
we whispered through bed sheets
through nights and through tears
that left us both
blinded and wishing for wells that once
had appeared in the darkest of corners;
but now we sat softly
and tread dizzy on eggshells left scattered
from counters left cluttered
and lost;
but it was a night in
december
when it all fell away
and the decaying feel of a love gone lost
left us twisting and swaying
on bars turned to
branches, turned to falling trees
felled in nights
left unanswered
and flown in the breeze
and it was then that the time we'd had
lost all meaning and
1 day in some year left us
spinning
and
drifting and
2 weeks of a
month left us
losing and aching and
6 moments of time,
s a t r d
c t e e
and wasted,
were lost in the dirt and left
to fester and wait
for the
59 seconds
it would take to be gathered up
but the
2 that mattered
were littered and lost in the dust
and it was then that we realized
this world is not golden, the bluebells
and buzzards leave so much unspoken;
we danced for so long
on these eggshells my feet have
turned red, but it was worth it for the nights
we'd spent staring at
stars in the driveway, learning to live in a new way
because the wind shoved us until we
answered; this love lost its luster but
the moments left
behind will shine
forevermore.
Literature
self worth
Wanting for nothing
this budding rose
ready to wilt
along the stripped creek.
She's an arm's length
away, her taint some exposed
cove braving the sea
carved against the grain
of turning oceans.
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.
Literature
instructions on never falling out of love
invent countless scenarios where pieces
fall into places and you fall into
his arms.
rip your chest up with bitten nails,
scourge your insides with laser-sharp
self-homing
precision-guided missiles
of unending scrutiny:
what's missing, what's missing,
what's missing.
discard fictions, soft-spoken and faceless.
you've met the real deal
and he doesn't want you.
write songs, write
this poem,
write, sing, remember
old melodies
of the broken loves of your youth.
tell yourself every bit of pain that had
passed through you before
carved a perfect spot
for this love to fill.
tell yourself, you loved him before you met him.
what you've learnt to
Suggested Collections
day 12: decay
to be quite honest i don't know what this is or where it came from
i just kind of rambled
to be quite honest i don't know what this is or where it came from
i just kind of rambled
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Comments14
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I don't even have words to describe how I feel about this. It's all positive things, but truly no words.