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Literature Text
i.
deep blue violets
curl their tongues
through phone lines.
electric currents are no
decoy for a lover,
but they press themselves
dry onto their paper
and rinse their eyes bloodshot
on the scrape of a night glow.
ii.
their fat hearts
drip the hours,
candle wax.
tiny flames light
like city lamps spanning
so far into the distance
that they blur
into the morning's tailspin.
when I exhale the flame's
dire ghost,
my eyelids departing their hills
awaken suns opposite the earth.
iii.
lipstick on text
is only color engulfing
speech.
it's a magic show
and we all go home
disillusioned.
iv.
I wonder
if he'll become
swallowed by white noise
while I sleep.
my greatest fear is
the unopened letter,
the funeral beneath the sea
with the coffin covered in signatures
whose handwriting I can't decipher.
v.
sometimes every mile
kisses me goodnight
as if my bed is an altar
at which they lay their blessings.
sometimes it feels real
enough that I thank god
before I fall asleep.
vi.
even sunlight,
great mother of life,
can peel the skin from my bones.
love,
storm that it is,
is better off
raging in a bottle.
deep blue violets
curl their tongues
through phone lines.
electric currents are no
decoy for a lover,
but they press themselves
dry onto their paper
and rinse their eyes bloodshot
on the scrape of a night glow.
ii.
their fat hearts
drip the hours,
candle wax.
tiny flames light
like city lamps spanning
so far into the distance
that they blur
into the morning's tailspin.
when I exhale the flame's
dire ghost,
my eyelids departing their hills
awaken suns opposite the earth.
iii.
lipstick on text
is only color engulfing
speech.
it's a magic show
and we all go home
disillusioned.
iv.
I wonder
if he'll become
swallowed by white noise
while I sleep.
my greatest fear is
the unopened letter,
the funeral beneath the sea
with the coffin covered in signatures
whose handwriting I can't decipher.
v.
sometimes every mile
kisses me goodnight
as if my bed is an altar
at which they lay their blessings.
sometimes it feels real
enough that I thank god
before I fall asleep.
vi.
even sunlight,
great mother of life,
can peel the skin from my bones.
love,
storm that it is,
is better off
raging in a bottle.
Literature
Nine Words to Say I Miss You
I never knew loneliness;
until the day we met...
Literature
you are what you love
this girl dreams
far too much;
her bed has turned into
a nightmare graveyard,
full of wilted roses
and broken spines.
wanderlust is a toxin.
one that fills her lungs with each
breath and with every poisoned
heartbeat, she yearns for a world
with moons of gold and a silver sun.
yet—
she would rather listen
to those sweet nothings than have
the philosophy of reality
shoved down her throat.
this girl does not want
to live in black and white;
no, she craves color
and the freedom it tastes like and if
the chains that that shackle her
starving soul refuse to unlock,
she will tear them apart
with her own two hands.
Literature
sixteen times in which i was Someone
1. knitting at an airport
and not waiting for a text message
but being happy when you send one,
anyway.
2. eating raw lemons in march—
i'm cold and i'm sour but i'm still
sweet, if you're brave enough to try.
3. my dress smells like parsley
when i come home from the seder,
to something warm and large and
beautiful.
4. lying on the hardwood floor
eating celery after making truffles
with my friend, we're full and okay,
it's okay.
5. i look like sunshine personified
with my yellow rainjacket, walking
through the water like lightness,
like drowning doesn't exist.
6. drawing pictures of joan of arc
at two in the morning, my phone
on sp
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