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Literature Text
- eight-year-olds don't understand
death. they don't know why the dog no longer
barks or why the cricket no longer
chirps or why the grasshopper lies still. they were brought
to life believing that we will live forever, yet the world
slams a fist, shows them
forever is never and that they will not believe
in anything so beautiful ever
again.
(they live in laughter
and in love
but sorrow shall fold them into something
so new)
sixteen-year-olds believe in something
after, though they don't quite know
what. they understand the cat didn't tear the feathers from
the bird just for the hell of
it, but for the life of it, and where did that life go?
yet they forget faith as time rolls on
and brush death from their shoulders
like dripping rain.
(they learn you can't stride on a cloud
and fall through childhood
into reality,
heavy)
thirty-two-year-olds forget that
life moves on without the ones you used to love,
and they hate it; they hold on to
rusted photographs and tinted memories gone blind,
yet still they wonder
why so much matters on what it is we
leave behind.
(they work like dogs
to be remembered as something more
than nothing at all - they
don't understand they are so very small)
sixty-four-year-olds remember they smashed
the cricket and never felt
sick over it. they know memories
fade and that's okay; feathers are just as important as
tombstones and the weight
of the world never much mattered anyway.
(and they learn while laughing
with god that the cat
did it just for the hell of it after all)
Literature
Everything That I Learned From You
I. Care too much. That's what you're afraid of, right? That when he goes to sleep and all you want to do is touch his hand to remind yourself he's real (for the moment)—you're in too deep. You care too much. You are clinging too tightly and your concern will strangle him. You think that if you tell him how much you love his eyes or you stare too long at his mouth when he talks or fold yourself around him as he sleeps he will leave because the love you put on him is too heavy. But care about him anyway. Love and kindness are too far last in this world. If he pushes you away as you cradle his head in your arms then he does not un
Literature
Halcyon days
these were our halcyon days, adrift in purple-laced waves,
an empress and a prince tangling tales in a knot of kelp forests,
the dappled light refracting through our sky, their sea; painting
your skin like a mottled portrait. and a crown beckons you, a
calling echoes from the depths, your fate unwinds like a long
fishing reel into the distance. and I am driftwood, seeking
thunderstorms and shipwrecks, searching for treasures that
could replace you when you breach and leap upstream, leaving
me in shallow pools that hold no hope. but no gold and no rings
could replace you and I have learned to stifle hope, have taught
myself to stop wishing o
Literature
things to take to college
1. between the two of us, we have eaten miles
of pavement, we have spent months pressing
the same four wheels into the ground.
whenever you need to, follow those tracks again.
they will lead you back home.
2. there are songs i only figured out how to sing
with you beside me. even now, the words
sound awkward in my throat.
the notes are wrong. i’m not sure what makes
something sacred, but words like that
i only know how to sing with a quiet
reverence i can’t seem to find anymore.
3. i am good at writing poems that convince
people to stay. i don’t know how to write
a poem to someone that i know is going to leave
no matter
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and they say we are what we leave behind
because somebody's gotta do the leaving
day 16: feathers
This is for yesterday, now that my internet is fully functional once again. c:
because somebody's gotta do the leaving
day 16: feathers
This is for yesterday, now that my internet is fully functional once again. c:
© 2015 - 2024 Khaimin
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Just found this in my inbox and I love it!! Beautiful work!!