ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Yeah, I knew it.
But, that didn't stop me
from liking the way she
s d.
m e
i l
She was a wild, all-consuming
i n f e r n o
With a tongue like hot wax
and cool peppermint ice-cream.
She skipped on tiny, pixie feet
whispering bitter winter promises
in the middle of 90 degree weather;
unraveling hearts like her favorite
pair of DIY holly jeans and wearing
leftover heartstrings like false
promise bracelets.
[ I burnt to a crisp
under her fingertips. ]
But, that didn't stop me
from liking the way she
s d.
m e
i l
She was a wild, all-consuming
i n f e r n o
With a tongue like hot wax
and cool peppermint ice-cream.
She skipped on tiny, pixie feet
whispering bitter winter promises
in the middle of 90 degree weather;
unraveling hearts like her favorite
pair of DIY holly jeans and wearing
leftover heartstrings like false
promise bracelets.
[ I burnt to a crisp
under her fingertips. ]
Literature
handle with care
there are 206 bones in the
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
but now,
i think we're more like
bombshel
Literature
pressure.
she was cracked in places only she could feel, and where the blood could only be tasted, and not seen.
her lips, fingertips and inside her chest. she learned that there are certain body parts prone to being cut or bruised, and her white laced knees could attest to that. but there comes a time when cutting your leg on the coffee table or pinching your stomach with your belt buckle, isn't an accident anymore. its something more, and you know it is. but you can go so long without ever admitting it to yourself, and even longer for anyone else.
Literature
Tastes Like...
Daddy likes to make me
Eat my words.
I see him hit Mommy
And I know she hurts.
So I tell him, to get her
He has to go through me.
And, well, I can no longer walk
And I can no longer see.
Daddy makes me eat my words
And reality starts to flood.
Yes, Daddy makes me eat my words…
And my words taste like blood.
Suggested Collections
Once upon a time,
I knew this girl...
July 5, 2011
I knew this girl...
July 5, 2011
© 2012 - 2024 DearPoetry
Comments6
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Reminds me of several people I know, as well as myself at times.
Amazing choice of words, painted a very good image in my mind of a beautiful young woman, smiling devilishly with those little rubber bracelets around her wrists and brilliant red hair and cold blue eyes.
Amazing choice of words, painted a very good image in my mind of a beautiful young woman, smiling devilishly with those little rubber bracelets around her wrists and brilliant red hair and cold blue eyes.