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Literature Text
the trees reflect the sunset olive-green-orange.
my new sneakers are too big for my feet, clair de lune girl
in sweet summer twilights— i was told once
i looked how honey tastes in the back of your throat, i taste
sunshine
when i think of kissing you
my new sneakers are too big for my feet, clair de lune girl
in sweet summer twilights— i was told once
i looked how honey tastes in the back of your throat, i taste
sunshine
when i think of kissing you
Literature
i
i as a thing with a body
must feel endlessly.
opening, blooming,
closing, wilting:
i flower
and the sky falls upon me.
i am the root, the stem, the rain.
when this bedrock allows
for no more following --
then i must lead,
if i wish to breathe.
i as a thing with a body
have no lungs to speak of
and must compensate
with twigs,
and pixels,
and distance without schematic
with falling, for a lilac while
and ending things before they begin.
when i am hurt
i must not be hurt.
i as a thing with a body
must never be hurt:
to be hurt is surely to die,
and to die is to be unknown.
to be unknown is to have roots
but no stem
no petal.
i
Literature
sunnyside eyes
she starves herself for the aesthetic of it.
they say,
wintergirl, it's spring now,
but she is buried in regrets or snowflakes or ashes
they all burn
and her skin isn't ready to forgive her.
these rivers will not thaw,
crawling up the bones pushing through her skin
waiting for the hot spring(s),
but they're all asleep.
her breathing is getting slower
and her body is growing colder
please eat something
but she keeps counting calories
when she should be counting stars.
Literature
Fracture, #3
I dig my nails into my throat
like butterfly wings
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Comments14
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Beautiful! <3