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Literature Text
I like pretending I mean something to the ghosts
who wreak havoc on my bones-
impaling these masochistic butterfly wings
on railroad spikes
between heartbeats and bedsheets,
immortalized.
I got a heart in New Orleans,
palms engraving names like
Juliet, Alexandria, & Christine
on the seats of greyhound buses.
& I'm offering up 102 degrees of skin to a godless moon
as I breathe in her night scent.
who wreak havoc on my bones-
impaling these masochistic butterfly wings
between heartbeats and bedsheets,
immortalized.
I got a heart in New Orleans,
palms engraving names like
Juliet, Alexandria, & Christine
on the seats of greyhound buses.
& I'm offering up 102 degrees of skin to a godless moon
as I breathe in her night scent.
Literature
Storybook Ending
Her ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,
[dragon's blood
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
[glass slippers
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
[enchanted forests
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
[cursed beasts
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
Literature
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
Giving them kisses in the dark
to numb their headache from
drinking too much and yet
not enough to kill lust.
She was always adored by boys, who,
if given the chance, would rebuild
the world for her.
But she wanted to be the heroine
and refused to see
she needed saving, too.
Literature
You Are Now Gone
Perhaps you were my oxygen
As without you I cannot breathe
Stars reminded me of your eyes
My love, why did you have to leave?
So out of the blue you left me
In to black my fragile heart broke
A thousand lost words were exchanged
Yet not one single word was spoke
I'm focusing on my time piece
I've given you peace for some time
Though love is clearly black and white
Friendship is harder to define
It's the shades of grey that haunt me
Those seeds of love we didn't sow
The memories we never made
Our bloom that has refused to grow
The pressure I feel without you
This volcano shall soon erupt
But I will implode silently
This was
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This might confuse you, but it makes sense to me.
I'm sorry for my jumbled thoughts--I enjoy writing when I am half out of my mind.
Free write, enjoy.
I'm sorry for my jumbled thoughts--I enjoy writing when I am half out of my mind.
Free write, enjoy.
© 2012 - 2024 DearPoetry
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Im always half out of my mind so i know what its like and i like this ^ ^ Sometimes you need to write something tht makes no sence to everyone but makes perfect sences to you.