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Literature Text
Somebody
shut out the lights and
burn the letters I never sent, dear
I promise I won't feel a thing
if you promise you never cared, ‘cause
today’s as good as any to
pack up and leave without another word.
I think it was
just the other night
that I held out my hands
while that storm spat profanities,
and i couldn’t find a damn thing to be afraid of.
It felt more like the earth was sad than
anything
to scream secrets at and
it reminded me of you.
Well, the sky lights up on nights like that
and you get to see everything the way it really is
for a second or two,
one shitty overcast soaking wet girl and
when she starts to remind you more of
thunder than lightning,
you ought to know she’s full of
nothing.
shut out the lights and
burn the letters I never sent, dear
I promise I won't feel a thing
if you promise you never cared, ‘cause
today’s as good as any to
pack up and leave without another word.
I think it was
just the other night
that I held out my hands
while that storm spat profanities,
and i couldn’t find a damn thing to be afraid of.
It felt more like the earth was sad than
anything
to scream secrets at and
it reminded me of you.
Well, the sky lights up on nights like that
and you get to see everything the way it really is
for a second or two,
one shitty overcast soaking wet girl and
when she starts to remind you more of
thunder than lightning,
you ought to know she’s full of
nothing.
Literature
dear depression,
(master of the umbra)
i hate you.
broken whispers, lonely promises,
you are the worst of lovers, owning all, but
never seeming to be satisfied
even with your name branded scarlet into my wrists.
i am no longer the golden songbird as when you first met me,
but yet
you still hang onto me
your claws
raking across my heart like
my pen ripping across the bloodstained page, like
lightning across the skies, (vengeance
raining down from the gods i used to believe in)
"don't let them catch you,"
you breathed into my ears.
an ounce of life, in exchange for a cloak of darkness (i thought i'd only stay one night)
the fog was sluggish and deep.
so bl
Literature
what to do when he doesn't say it back
a)
you will give all of yourself to a boy who won't know you at all.
he will recycle your parts, make you stationary, bind you into
paper that he will gift back so you can write poetry about him.
you, too, say i love you quickly.
when he doesn't say it back, evaporate.
b)
he will kiss you in places you didn't know existed.
until him, you were a peasant in your body's palace.
he crowned you princess, broke the lock of your castle's gates.
when he doesn't say it back, load your cannons.
c)
you are a fountain pen.
look him in the eye when you write him letters on your skin.
when he asks to read them, surrender.
you have always be
Literature
just another adolescent love poem
let’s get this straight right now:
there are people i can only talk to
at four o’clock in the morning, when
the line between decency and secrecy
becomes just as blurred as the one between
night and day.
you’re not one of them.
i’m not ashamed of you.
or scared. and don’t try to tell me that’s not
a miracle because i still check under the bed
for monsters and behind the shower curtain
for serial killers. i know it’s all in my head
but things like that make me terrified;
i mean, i still hold my breath crossing by a cemetery
and someone else is always going to have to kill the spiders.
i’m hopi
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Comments1
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Well, the sky lights up on nights like that
and you get to see everything the way it really is
for a second or two
Me likes
and you get to see everything the way it really is
for a second or two
Me likes