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Literature Text
secret number six-six-six,
i'm scared to love you.
a few hours ago, we were giggling and smiling
you were tugging up my skirt and i was blushing,
trying to cover my ghost-pale legs. i was comparing
my sad pasty arm to yours, the colour of over-sugared
coffee, pursing my lips and saying that you were the
white one. now the only words i can melt out of you
are either four letters or whatever, and my skirts all
hiked up without me even meaning it to. imissyou.
- - -
i wish all our conversations were all made
up of the pretty half-lies you tell me.
"i love you."
"you're always beautiful."
"i'll never hurt you."
liar liar liar liar liar.
[but you tell the prettiest lies i've ever heard,
and i want nothing more but to believe them.]
i've told you a hundred times about my
broken heart, and every time you ask
how my heart could possibly break and
every time i tell you it's just like breaking
porcelain or glass, you can't put all the
shards back together without getting cut
over, and over. even then it'd take years
to pull the splinters of glass out of your
finger tips, and sometimes it's just easier
left broken and ignored than half-fixed
and adored. you didn't understand a word.
today, all the other boys and girls
stared at us; your arms wrapped
lovingly around my diaphragm and
me bending half over backwards
trying to see you, your head resting
occasionally on my shoulder.
(you need to get some sleep, baby.)
girls pointed and i heard them
whispering under their breath, i
wish i had a boyfriend who would
hold me like that. my heart was on
fire, because they didn't know. they
didn't know how many times you
yelled at me, ignored me, shut me
out. could you just talk to me?
when i look into your eyes i see a black hole,
one with a galaxy hiding deep inside; a constellation
of broken memories and ignored wishes. i see
anger and love and passion and indifference, i
see a sick boy hardened over by a life that has given
him way too much shit that he doesn't know how
to handle. i see a boy that i could love if he would
fucking love me first. (you told me you loved me first,
but i don't believe you. i think you're scared to love me.)
Literature
before
a little while ago
maybe a couple of months or something
i wasn't drinking ; instead i was
waking up to you
every morning you would stretch
and your spine would move and i felt it all over
your skin stretched into the sun and
i saw it everywhere
but guess what, that shit was gold and
gold doesn't last and you didn't last.
i got boring and you got mean.
and you're less of a gypsy and more of
a woman and i know if i called you up tonight
said hey baby come home
how did we get here baby i'm crying on the
floor drinking lime pepsi
and this goddamn pepsi is flat. so why don't
you come home. just for the night.
you would say you h
Literature
we're all glass bottles.
1.
somewhere, there is a superhero meant for me, clad in a black cape and hope, adrenaline jumping in iron veins.
we could be a racing river, and no dam could ever hold us in. we could be a fire that no one could put out (i'd be the ashes if he'd be the flame), or maybe even a gust of wind that no wall could ever stop.
maybe we could live in a cave, away from the noise and pain, or maybe we'd live in the clouds and eat dreams all day. maybe we could catch fireflies and pray for the lights to stay lit another moment, just so we could finally hang onto something.
maybe i'd learn to bottle my fears and doubts - and then, maybe, i'd break the
Literature
debutantes
she wandered her quiet
life in seclusion, hidden like
a recluse in the soft
darkness of lighted caves
but he found her
in his flight from
the noise and distractions
that trapped him like
a bird in a net
she released him
and like a hermit
drawn from her prayers,
she followed him as
he lead her in a
waltz of wanting
and her coming out
is his coming in
as they discover
a new dance of
devotion
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all true...
not that great, but it's sure as fuck real.
imma go back ad add more in a second.
© 2009 - 2024 crushasphyxia
Comments36
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wow, this is amazing.
the second last stanza is somewhat perfect.
gave me an uncomfortable sick feeling in my stomach.
wonderful.
the second last stanza is somewhat perfect.
gave me an uncomfortable sick feeling in my stomach.
wonderful.