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Literature Text
she hollowed out the fear in you, that once rested in your rib-cage
like a safe haven, somewhere to lose yourself
when falling. (she stole it with less than a whisper).
you stood cold and resilient, the void tugging at your sleeves
with fierce determination.
you stood empty and brave.
she never gave you a destination, wordlessly she carved your route
out of denied tears, an unfinished map with no coastlines.
you left and the abyss followed your trail like a bloodhound,
promised to devour you whole.
you left to find the sea.
like a safe haven, somewhere to lose yourself
when falling. (she stole it with less than a whisper).
you stood cold and resilient, the void tugging at your sleeves
with fierce determination.
you stood empty and brave.
she never gave you a destination, wordlessly she carved your route
out of denied tears, an unfinished map with no coastlines.
you left and the abyss followed your trail like a bloodhound,
promised to devour you whole.
you left to find the sea.
Literature
in the box
is a brain, removed from shell
disconnected
from signal wires. still viable (?)
maybe.
blue teeth and instant grams
and gallons of conceit;
our granular portrait no longer flatters
unless dull spots and imperfections are rendered
out in the wash--
we mask and filter, ask and answer,
bask in banter
understanding no one ever even thinks
to change the thought they've already had.
old news, rotten
if revisited. inquisitive
minds have nothing better to do
but second guess assumptions,
better than first-blush conundrums
that don't fit the formula we've written
for how the world works;
it's absurd to think
this is where our
Literature
waterproof
sea foam regrets
wash this lacerated heart
with saline baptisms
of undying love
(and etch their
wretched revelations
on mausoleum walls).
your ancient ruins
still stand undefeated
by impudent waves
(like overexposed
polaroids showcased in
empty exhibitions).
and it's futile
exorcising
my heart of
your remnants
(because all
graveyards need
ghosts to
haunt them).
Literature
Forging Foundations
there is part of me that knows these walls
in the same ways I know
unrequited was the dream I used to tie my strings to,
unrequited was the hope I used to fill myself up,
unrequited is just a word I used to be friends with
because you've crooked your fingers
into the hooks of my jeans
and you've hooked my heart,
dangling, a stranger to safety
learning how to let someone lead--
there is a piece of me that fears these feelings
like I fear insects that sting, like I fear wildfires that rage,
like I fear porcelain dolls
with cracked faces and scarred chests
because so far in this life,
all the beautiful things I've ever held
have come to me brok
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(Mandatory rant about how this sucks.)
(Mandatory rant about how this sucks.)
© 2013 - 2024 EternalSunday
Comments5
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"you stood cold and resilient, the void tugging at your sleeves
with fierce determination.
you stood empty and brave."
and that last line!
this is lovely.
i love the idea of the void tugging at sleeves. (:
well done.
(and i'm sorry it sucks)