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Literature Text
You are a ghost in my head
Living, yet you haunt my thoughts today
To speak your name
Would be to desecrate this space
Where you are, I should not care to know
But you are a never-healing wound
An unfulfilled promise
A chance to do no wrong
My memories burn with your taste, your touch, your smell
Who have I become?
Too long have the years been to me
To find myself wishing for the crossroads
For the chance to say no, one more time.
Living, yet you haunt my thoughts today
To speak your name
Would be to desecrate this space
Where you are, I should not care to know
But you are a never-healing wound
An unfulfilled promise
A chance to do no wrong
My memories burn with your taste, your touch, your smell
Who have I become?
Too long have the years been to me
To find myself wishing for the crossroads
For the chance to say no, one more time.
Literature
on seeking solace in strangers
And she felt like home
her arms gave
way to the sand
castle of her
chest,
she was
inexplicable
and
obscene
and
vulgar
and
i loved her for it
i knew
she was a dragon
of a girl
even with
charcoal creases
beneath her eyes
and smudged
vowels
l
e
a
k
i
n
g
from the corners
of her lips
like a faulty tap
to me she was beautiful
like those obscure
lapses in time
at 3.25 AM
with her legs
stretched across the
window sill
smoking my cigarettes
as she let her words
fold themselves
into the quiet
s p a c e s
around us
she still sparkled
with this rebellious
twinkle in her eyes
and
Literature
The Only Poem I'll Ever Write About Periods
What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
Right?”
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.
Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tinder
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’
Literature
longing
"I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
"How long has it been?"
"Only a week. How's the internship?"
"Boring, but I'm learning a lot. I want to come home. I miss you."
"Is the weather in Phoenix nice?"
"No, it's too hot. I miss you."
"Are you having fun, at least?"
"Not really. I miss you."
"I miss you, too, but I thought we already established that."
"I know. It just...feels like half of my body is back home, sleeping in bed next to you."
"I just looked under the covers. Nothing's there, I promise."
"You know what I meant."
"You're right, I do. I'll let you in on a secret, though."
"Shoot."
"I'll be gone one day, and you'll be alone.
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Because you will never read this, and if you do, you won't think it's for you. But it is.
© 2014 - 2024 Renvixen101
Comments3
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I'm guilty of having thoughts like this.