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Literature Text
sloppy honeymoon kisses
smearing red lipstick
against white lace
in unexplored places
because honey,
this bride is a
good old fashioned
christian young lady
somewhere sits a couple
of leftover wedding guests
alcohol miraculously fresh
on their breath
and they're laughing
like nothing is wrong
besides the fact
that they're both so
pathetically lonely
mascara is trailing down
the cheek of a bridesmaid
who's so green with envy
she feels it curled up
inside her like a well-fed animal
and she does nothing but
bite her chapped bottom lip
and imagine the groom
with his hands on her body
right now
they're sweeping at this time of night
cleaning up the party debris
stained linen and trampled streamers
and confetti caked into cracks in the floor
the janitor sighs heavily
as he loads his arms with
baby's breath that bow their heads
and piles of white, wilted petals
that he dumps in the trash
and as they hit the crinkled black plastic
that lines the garbage among cake crumbs
and discarded drinks,
bride and groom lean into each other
exhaling each other's names
and go limp
smearing red lipstick
against white lace
in unexplored places
because honey,
this bride is a
good old fashioned
christian young lady
somewhere sits a couple
of leftover wedding guests
alcohol miraculously fresh
on their breath
and they're laughing
like nothing is wrong
besides the fact
that they're both so
pathetically lonely
mascara is trailing down
the cheek of a bridesmaid
who's so green with envy
she feels it curled up
inside her like a well-fed animal
and she does nothing but
bite her chapped bottom lip
and imagine the groom
with his hands on her body
right now
they're sweeping at this time of night
cleaning up the party debris
stained linen and trampled streamers
and confetti caked into cracks in the floor
the janitor sighs heavily
as he loads his arms with
baby's breath that bow their heads
and piles of white, wilted petals
that he dumps in the trash
and as they hit the crinkled black plastic
that lines the garbage among cake crumbs
and discarded drinks,
bride and groom lean into each other
exhaling each other's names
and go limp
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Literature
I Will Believe That You're Okay...
If you tell me you're fine,
Then I won't question it.
I won't ask you about the cuts,
Or the bruises.
I'll turn a blind eye to everything...
Instead I'll ask that you join me tonight,
And maybe we'll cook ourselves a little supper.
Maybe you'd like to stay over? It'd be cool!
We'll watch a movie, play a few games.
C'mon you know how much I suck at monster hunter,
Be my wingman--er, lady tonight
And in the morning, let's go for a walk,
There's a huge park just a short distance away.
We could go on one of those nature trail things!
Hell yeah? Hell yeah!
And maybe, after you've had some time to think,
You'll see that things ain't quite a
Literature
You do not whore around,
You spend your nights
reaching
for Apollo’s robes.
You’re as hot
as New Orleans
in mid-July, and
as fierce
as her gumbo.
But, he is light-years
away and your fingers
ache with tired
insecurity.-
a disaster in
your own
moon skin.
Even if it fucking hurts,
you can still taste
his heat on your tongue.
Gods be damned,
you’re a butterfly-
( even if mounted
to a bed. )
One day,
you will find yourself
and fly away.
Literature
Evanescent
only the most
beautiful of creatures
live the shortest.
red roses and quivering
butterflies and other
useless things, like the
way she wishes on every star
she sees for a different
soul because she can't stand
the way it's rotting inside.
and it's only when
the thorns beneath her skin
start to bleed that her
monsters whisper, "have
you ever trembled, my dear?"
because they know
for every whimper that hides
faintly in the dark,
there is a pair of lips stretched
into a smile pretending
that all that is beautiful
is timeless and unbroken.
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I enjoyed writing this one so much! I hope you like this (if you do, please favorite this poem or drop me a comment. I love your feedback)!
© 2013 littleblueraccoon
© 2013 littleblueraccoon
© 2013 - 2024 littleblueraccoon
Comments32
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I'm not sure what to think of this one. I'm torn between two perspectives. Curse you good poetry! Messing with my mind! Though I suppose that just means you did a brilliant job. 