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Literature Text
The fire in your eyes is too dangerous for my wax wings.
I
am
f a l l i n g
and they said it would hurt,
said it would
set me on fire
but the burn feels the same as the vodka we inhaled at two a.m. when you were
b
r e
a k
i
n
g
Candles burn as slowly as you burn me.
I hit the tides and the waves
s me w
w up o
a l l
and they say in sea salt you
d
r
o
w
n
in your own blood,
choking on the foreign taste of love.
I
am
f a l l i n g
and they said it would hurt,
said it would
set me on fire
but the burn feels the same as the vodka we inhaled at two a.m. when you were
b
r e
a k
i
n
g
Candles burn as slowly as you burn me.
I hit the tides and the waves
s me w
w up o
a l l
and they say in sea salt you
d
r
o
w
n
in your own blood,
choking on the foreign taste of love.
Literature
contrary [e]motion
Every once in a while
the mountain winds
taste of salt,
so much that I could
cup my hands
like shells
and picture white waters
marvel at oak roots
for the first time,
hear the seagulls
cry for food
let’s build a castle
you and I,
made of stardust,
down the street
where the last wish
went to die,
let’s make boats
of these empty pages,
and flowers,
and hats
to call our crowns.
Let’s dance alone
you and I,
to the sharp
light melody
of a moon
and let’s stay,
oh let’s stay,
grow old
you and I,
in the place
where the roses lay.
Imagination
keeps the earth still
beneath my feet
but the clouds above
bring your nam
Literature
(don't) remember me.
her voice whispers itself
into my sleep and beats
against my
ear drums - she
is running across
damp earth so
gracefully, so
easily; with
each step she leaves
behind a weed for
me to trip and
stumble over as
she flies, fairydust
in her eyes and
moondrops in her
hair and i can
never catch
her.
(i can never catch her.)
so i bury myself
in the mouldy roots
of the earth like
mother nature's unborn
child, twist my
fingers and cross
my ankles. maybe i'll
grow into something
beautiful and she'll
turn around
and
remember
me.
(it is when i wake up i remember
i'd rather she'd forget me so i
can forget her too.)
Literature
sepulcher
your body is jerusalem,
he’ll tell you
coveted first, then plundered.
– you’re my backwater bedroom
martyr, he’ll tell you
as he nails your wrists
to bedposts,
seizes your tongue like
a white flag,
pulls stones from your parapets –
little sister,
i’ll tell you
the children’s crusade
is lost:
and you’ll kneel at his sword and know
you were always his
to take
Suggested Collections
playing with word and letter placement
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Comments15
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The word placement to this added so much feelings to the emphasized words themselves. It made me take a moment to look at it while the emotions ran through me.
I'm going through a binge read of all of your works right now, and it's astounding me how much emotion you can portray in your poetry.
I'm going through a binge read of all of your works right now, and it's astounding me how much emotion you can portray in your poetry.