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Literature Text
Kiss me
No, harder
Rid me of every scar
Suck the night-old whiskey away from all my black and blue
Touch me until I don't feel worthless
All these broken ribs
The fluttering lids of both black eyes
Pray away every awful thing I've done
And lick the salt away from broken skin
The exit wounds of bullets
The little lines of knife bites
Just love me until I'm mad
And kiss me until I'm whole again
No, harder
Rid me of every scar
Suck the night-old whiskey away from all my black and blue
Touch me until I don't feel worthless
All these broken ribs
The fluttering lids of both black eyes
Pray away every awful thing I've done
And lick the salt away from broken skin
The exit wounds of bullets
The little lines of knife bites
Just love me until I'm mad
And kiss me until I'm whole again
Literature
i wish i was special
I.
ever since i can remember, my heart has been stolen by a big, bad wolf-boy. i had fallen prey to his big, brown puppy-dog eyes. i thought myself in a fairy tale or at least under a spell- his spell, as he could make me feel as weightless as a feather and as bright as the bluest of sunny skies. he always had me believing, day-dreaming that by the end of the dusty road, he would either transform in appearance or deed. sadly no dwarfs neither fairy godmothers nor glass or ruby slippers could be found by my side at the grand finale. there is only me left, teetering on the edge of a highway railing, acting oblivious to my own complete breakdow
Literature
handle with care
there are 206 bones in the
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
but now,
i think we're more like
bombshel
Literature
Learn to Love Again
Though they say that its better
To have loved and lost
then to have never loved at all
Its no compensation for the second
When you feel the cost
And see your loved ones fall
And though she rests where the angels fly
I just want to sit and cry
I must learn to love again
And all these days may go by
I can’t see the sun
I hide to avoid the test
It feels like a knife in my chest
I stare at my gun
Be with her and avoid the rest
But though she rests where the angels fly
I know she’d want me to try
To learn to love again
And if I could trade all the years
With her love so pure
And her looks, her feel, her voice
So I could forget th
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Just a short lil' piece of sweetness. I'm not uploading as much. Trying to expand what I write about. Exploring story telling poetry, but for now I'm working on this style. It's more wordy than how I write normally.
Thoughts on this new style?
-G.
Thoughts on this new style?
-G.
Comments32
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Very nicely written.