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Literature Text
Brass keys and candlewax,
You're my dilapidated aesthetic.
Flower crown in auburn curls
Amber eyes with autumn swirls
Pumpkin spice and "You're too nice!"
Indie music ambience
We say broken is beautiful,
But honey, no it's not.
There is nothing beautiful about
locks without keys,
Burning your finger on a flame,
Nor the wilted ring of flowers on your grave.
Autumn still tastes like you,
but it tastes like sadness, too.
Soft soul music is too painful;
Broken may not be beautiful,
But beauty has been broken.
You're my dilapidated aesthetic.
Flower crown in auburn curls
Amber eyes with autumn swirls
Pumpkin spice and "You're too nice!"
Indie music ambience
We say broken is beautiful,
But honey, no it's not.
There is nothing beautiful about
locks without keys,
Burning your finger on a flame,
Nor the wilted ring of flowers on your grave.
Autumn still tastes like you,
but it tastes like sadness, too.
Soft soul music is too painful;
Broken may not be beautiful,
But beauty has been broken.
Literature
.
all the words
taste like salt
on my lips,
although all the oceans
evaporated and stopped
throwing up corpses
long ago;
now all our souls
lie bloated in the
burning sand -
the sun beating
down on our heads
like a war drummer
that got lost
along with the
cause.
(there's a feast for the crows,
but I don't think they're hungry.)
Literature
.
we are dancing in the
rain, blood burning -
yearning for the
taste of sweet symphonies
yet undiscovered. we
are pioneers; cosmonauts
from the start so
no longer will we look
down at the dirt and
drown old graves in
tears. these
spaceships
fly too slow
for dreamers, we
will ride on the
back of comets
into the depths
of our universe
and if you hear the
light singing even
as it vanishes into
black holes remember
the most beautiful
things are often blue
from sadness.
(there can be no light without darkness)
Literature
in an inconspicuous
i live in a space
where it's
socially acceptable
to stare at you
and actively
regret most
things i've done
in relation
to such.
i live in a space
where i watch
beautiful things
and wish i was
beautiful too.
i live in a space
where i talk
to beautiful things
and wish
i actually existed
with them.
i live in a space
where i am a dangling
speck of mistakes
where i plea
to every version of you
shame-faced and
silver-cheeked.
i live in a space
where i unravel
just enough to consider
the end, but not enough
where i am actually
an unspun ball
of yarn.
i live in a space
where i wish
i was spaghettied
across the universe,
but even that,
i fail at.
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Welcome autumn! We're ready for you~!
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Comments16
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Oh. Love is so bitter sweet. Marvellous.