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Literature Text
dear me,
stop loving the boy with the aquamarine eyes and the irregular heartbeats.
he's a kleptomaniac and he's stealing your breaths
(like he stole your heart to replace his failing one)
because his lungs are full of smoke and cobwebbed sadness and you're exhaling
stardust and dreams.
he stole a little bit more of your sun showered soul each time he gave you one
of his starshine kisses
(a fair trade, i think)
and he could've slit your throat with his razor-edged smile each time he planted
his lips on your collar bone but he spared your life because it meant something
to him
(then, anyway).
[i think he'd like to watch you die because your last words would still be iloveyou.]
from,
me
stop loving the boy with the aquamarine eyes and the irregular heartbeats.
he's a kleptomaniac and he's stealing your breaths
(like he stole your heart to replace his failing one)
because his lungs are full of smoke and cobwebbed sadness and you're exhaling
stardust and dreams.
he stole a little bit more of your sun showered soul each time he gave you one
of his starshine kisses
(a fair trade, i think)
and he could've slit your throat with his razor-edged smile each time he planted
his lips on your collar bone but he spared your life because it meant something
to him
(then, anyway).
[i think he'd like to watch you die because your last words would still be iloveyou.]
from,
me
Literature
what we didn't want came true
it was you against me and me against the wall
pushing and shoving into me, forcing apart my legs
i felt my hips dig into yours and my head hit the flat surface
i screamed and screamed and screamed but nothing happened except
the touch of your lips against my skin, and under it the breaking of my brittle bones
you clasped your hands around my throat and held tight
the air began to close off, and my lungs felt weak
tears appeared and bruises started to swell all over my body
"stop" i plead, but you just laughed
and unbuttoned my blouse.
+
it were days like today where i felt
used, broken and too fucked up
to even glance at my
Literature
let the sky be lost.
you and i,
we're not cut-outs from a story-book.
not misshaped and deformed pieces
of a broken star, unable to burst into
a supernova.
you're just the truth.
+
'i'm not telling you i love you
if i don't mean it. i hate when people
do that. they don't know what it
means.'
'so you won't say it?'
'no, i won't. not yet. not until i do.'
'that's good,' i smile a bit.
'something wrong?'
'not really.'
'no, you don't get it.'
'i don't think i do.'
'telling someone you love them when you
don't is like going to a tea party dressed
up in a ball gown: overdoing it. and nobody
cares. only the person in the gown cares.
all it does is
Literature
You and your...
Your tattered, tasseled clothing,
button eyes without thread,
chewed up, half-painted fingernails,
I love you,
You and your
disfigured sex appeal.
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p.s. i wish they would be something different, though.
--
a note to myself.
maybe now i'll remember.
hm...let's see...inspired by 82. Can You Hear Me? by the quite amazing ~EsotericHeart
poem (c) ~L-forever
--
a note to myself.
maybe now i'll remember.
hm...let's see...inspired by 82. Can You Hear Me? by the quite amazing ~EsotericHeart
poem (c) ~L-forever
© 2009 - 2024 L-forever
Comments6
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great poem.
i do this too, but i never listen to myself.
i do this too, but i never listen to myself.