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Literature Text
My fingers trail after the ghost of you
Memory pretty boy with your pretty words
Spinning beautiful mindscapes in my universe.
I want to breath you in
All the intricacies that make you human
And inhale your hurt, that I may unburden your being.
Pretty xylophone magic that ignites
A joy that almost aches
Because you are always slipping away.
My fingers trail after the ghost of you
Memory pretty boy with your pretty eyes
That see it all the way I want it all.
I want to convince you to run with me
But I’m tired of running and I've been for a while now,
You are full with a dream I can no longer chase.
Pretty wind chime symphony that carries you further
With the spring breeze that warms me, trailing my smiling cheeks
Is the ghost of your memory fingers.
Memory pretty boy with your pretty words
Spinning beautiful mindscapes in my universe.
I want to breath you in
All the intricacies that make you human
And inhale your hurt, that I may unburden your being.
Pretty xylophone magic that ignites
A joy that almost aches
Because you are always slipping away.
My fingers trail after the ghost of you
Memory pretty boy with your pretty eyes
That see it all the way I want it all.
I want to convince you to run with me
But I’m tired of running and I've been for a while now,
You are full with a dream I can no longer chase.
Pretty wind chime symphony that carries you further
With the spring breeze that warms me, trailing my smiling cheeks
Is the ghost of your memory fingers.
Literature
Lies
Do you lie in your sleep?
When you exhale, do the lies just tumble out?
Does a lie always inhabit the tip of your tongue?
Ready to run free at a moment’s notice?
Because it seems all I hear from you lately
Are lies
Lie after lie
Do you even know you’re telling them?
Or do you mean what you say in the moment and later contemplate on your words and decide otherwise?
Do you care that you hurt me?
With every word cutting deeper into the tough skin I thought I had formed
But then you come with your charm and your knife
And you cut
And cut
I don’t even notice the bleeding, lost in your eyes
Until you’re gone
Then I notice
Literature
Rhapsodic
I’ve lost my superpower –
of wordplay
It’s abandoned me and left me choking on vacant letters,
Stealing my brand of “wordsmith”
And
Labeling me simply as a lack-luster charlatan.
I’m vomiting synonyms
And
I’m tripping on definitions
In ways that I never have stumbled before.
This chasm –
This deep, empty, aching grave in my soul
Is screaming and pleading and gasping and trembling
To reconstitute this dried up talent
In the light of my ever-present denial of tragedy.
Once a zealot,
Always an addict;
You see, I yearn
to do nothing more than to load a syringe with ripe syllables,
Literature
unstoppable, unsaid
we are honeyed with
the rays of our summer.
i have never been
so green with love.
our hours wean with
the passing of the heat
but there is time yet.
so still we twine
together, your hands
heavy on my hips
mine splaying
the small of your back.
ours is an unstoppable,
unsaid promise as wide
as the solstice is long.
our summer is endless
forests soaking in the sun,
warmed bodies tucked
together on beds of moss.
for the one whom i thought was the moon.
© 2015 - 2024 rebel-brat
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