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Literature Text
california's in a drought and so am i :
it's been days since ive felt the patter of
fingertips on my skin
parched
- i arch my back into empty dreams -
i bare my neck, my bare skin, for you
god won't give me a reason to stop falling in love, and
neither will my friends
and im as good as gone when it comes down to you, don't tell me
i know the last time i thought about you, it was this morning;
i chased your scent into my pillow and left it there
so we chased stars, once, used them as a means
to an end, and we fell with them
i'm sixty percent water and forty percent love, baby,
and i think i'm all dried up from when i poured myself out for you
you're a california rainstorm : you're next to me and then you're gone
and i'm left with just enough to last me
til the next time you decide to love me.
it's been days since ive felt the patter of
fingertips on my skin
parched
- i arch my back into empty dreams -
i bare my neck, my bare skin, for you
god won't give me a reason to stop falling in love, and
neither will my friends
and im as good as gone when it comes down to you, don't tell me
i know the last time i thought about you, it was this morning;
i chased your scent into my pillow and left it there
so we chased stars, once, used them as a means
to an end, and we fell with them
i'm sixty percent water and forty percent love, baby,
and i think i'm all dried up from when i poured myself out for you
you're a california rainstorm : you're next to me and then you're gone
and i'm left with just enough to last me
til the next time you decide to love me.
Literature
i.
i was a girl born in the arms of
a mother who was not quite herself,
skin as pale (and a core as cold) as the moon
i was a girl who was born to
a father who was not quite the person
everyone made him out to be,
eyes as bright (and a heart as distant) as the sun
i was a girl born in
a city that was not quite urban
drenched in with fog that clouded our eyes
but never painted grey my heart,
until i realized that
i was a girl who was born
not quite enough.
an ocean girl with a pair of feet,
a accidental child who couldn't replace the ones broken before her,
a poetess heart in a house of silence
but after all,
who am i to question my roots
when
Literature
your poem
you tell me on a thursday that you can’t find
the god inside of yourself anymore, that
you think that you are finally
too much honeycomb and not enough human
because lately everything has been slipping
through your fingers, and you don’t know how you can
keep holding yourself together anymore.
if today is the day that you look
at the stars and you no longer
feel their burn beneath your bones,
i will show you the blanket i tried to make
when i was eight, and i will tell you all i know
about the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,
but i do know the basics,
and that’s that everything in the universe
is composed
Literature
People are not medicine
I will thaw out my
frozen ice box of a chest
for you
I will pump and resurrect
the dead tissues
so I can write about you
I will write about your
drug store Romeo smile
and the way you
hold your hands behind
your head like its the only
thing that will stop it
from rolling off your shoulders
I will write about the way
your eyes crinkle in the corners
and the way your dimples are uneven
when you laugh
I will write about the
tiny vampire footprints
you leave on my skin at night
when we're sat outside
on the sidewalk
contemplating Aristotle and Cobain
Like bleary eyed philosophers
I will write about the way
your fingers flex when you're exc
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inspired by a song my friend harrison wrote - he's suuuper talented and i love his music, check it out here : soundcloud.com/harrisonli !!!! thank u harrison for letting me use u as inspiration <3
© 2017 - 2024 calliopen
Comments19
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oh my, wow. the first few lines got me hooked, i love the idea of this and everything about it.