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Literature Text
Capsizing oceans breaking over her red queen smile
Know the answers to where secret gardens grow
Behind flaming thorns and rusting knights
Lie dormant stars waiting to split open and spew over her ribs
In order to make constellations out of her lion breaths
Palms scratching the skies to find the sun
Behind the fluorescent sounds of steel birds and empty raindrops
She colors in her retinas to rid the world of shades of grey
She blooms like wildflowers aching for scorched storms
She is summer veins and dandelion heartstrings
Whispering stories to the wolves at her door
Because fairy tales are just myths and there’s rarely a happy ending
But she spins gold from words and sets them off to sea
Where mermaids and sirens cradle the shoreline
Of her eyes
Know the answers to where secret gardens grow
Behind flaming thorns and rusting knights
Lie dormant stars waiting to split open and spew over her ribs
In order to make constellations out of her lion breaths
Palms scratching the skies to find the sun
Behind the fluorescent sounds of steel birds and empty raindrops
She colors in her retinas to rid the world of shades of grey
She blooms like wildflowers aching for scorched storms
She is summer veins and dandelion heartstrings
Whispering stories to the wolves at her door
Because fairy tales are just myths and there’s rarely a happy ending
But she spins gold from words and sets them off to sea
Where mermaids and sirens cradle the shoreline
Of her eyes
Literature
a girl at the airport
when she eats cake
she presses a napkin
to her lips with each bite--
frosting smears are impolite
murderers of good,
faraway first impressions.
when she sees someone
beautiful, she hides her face
behind a book, book shelf, closed door
like a pious man hides his eyes
from god.
when she has something
important to say among a crowd
she utters it like the bah
of a vulnerable lamb--
a fragile thing, a hesitant mantra
to be drowned and consumed
without thought or care by the sound
of louder others.
when she falls in love
she looks around
to make sure no one saw
and when someone sees
she refuses to believe
their eyes tried to catch
hers.
Literature
to the girl with hungry footsteps
I'm sending all my words back
to the people who need them--
people who wear scars like
war trophies, like jewelry, like
an identification for those suffering
from the same acceptance of
self-hate. this is to the people
who sleep with one eye open, who
cry when footsteps enter their room
at night; this is to the girls
who love by cutting their hearts
into snowflakes and watching
them melt. I left you behind and
I can't be sorry for that.
you are the type of beautiful
that kindly asks the world
to fuck off. the days we buried
have decomposed, headstones are
snapshots; sanitized breakdowns,
rusty tongues, sighs laced
with fear, I love you, I
Literature
9729 kilometers away, to be exact.
i have these bones like flowers-
fragile and finely plucked,
these lily stargazers
are kissing ocean beds,
making love to sirens
while yearning
for a taste of her
wander(lust).
i want to tape maps to my limbs-
throw caution to the wind
as i gather up
every love letter receipt,
from every false attempt
i ever wrote her
& forget for just a moment
that even still
light-years away,
she does not love me.
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Another poem for my poetry project Deja Entendu grew-up-a-screw-up.deviantart....
A poem for the sweet
A poem for the sweet
© 2013 - 2024 grew-up-a-screw-up
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