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Literature Text
i've been so caught up with trying
to be grown up
or a version of it
that i've forgotten
the universe is in my head
and he spun a new chapter
but i closed the book.
i'm good at beginnings
because there's nothing to compare
but i hate middles
preferring
to jump straight into
passion
burnt umber skin
and brown eyes that whisper
truths i didn't want to hear
the truth is we are the same
too afraid to admit
too selfish to actually care.
we wanted the chase
the thrill was fun
but it's gotten real,
so i bail
because i can always count
on my feet to fuck me over.
i'm good at beginnings
but terrible at endings
i enjoy drama
still just a teenager inside
believe that love is
fireworks and paradise.
but hell isn't brimstone
or fire.
hell is this place,
devoid of emotions,
and i'm a vacuum
still numb, as before.
so i write epitaphs
epiphanies and soliloquies
to try and make it seem
like i'm sane
like i'm functional
when i don't know anyone who is.
i'm of the belief
that there are no haunted houses
only dark staircases
ghosts masquerading as people.
these memories tainted
by the midnight nostalgia;
we paint futures
that evade our clutches
because we chose
to walk away
like it hurt,
when it doesn't.
it really doesn't.
to be grown up
or a version of it
that i've forgotten
the universe is in my head
and he spun a new chapter
but i closed the book.
i'm good at beginnings
because there's nothing to compare
but i hate middles
preferring
to jump straight into
passion
burnt umber skin
and brown eyes that whisper
truths i didn't want to hear
the truth is we are the same
too afraid to admit
too selfish to actually care.
we wanted the chase
the thrill was fun
but it's gotten real,
so i bail
because i can always count
on my feet to fuck me over.
i'm good at beginnings
but terrible at endings
i enjoy drama
still just a teenager inside
believe that love is
fireworks and paradise.
but hell isn't brimstone
or fire.
hell is this place,
devoid of emotions,
and i'm a vacuum
still numb, as before.
so i write epitaphs
epiphanies and soliloquies
to try and make it seem
like i'm sane
like i'm functional
when i don't know anyone who is.
i'm of the belief
that there are no haunted houses
only dark staircases
ghosts masquerading as people.
these memories tainted
by the midnight nostalgia;
we paint futures
that evade our clutches
because we chose
to walk away
like it hurt,
when it doesn't.
it really doesn't.
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
Distance multiplies
Lonely nights spent listening to your breathing, but you are far away dearest,
Are we connected only by a thread of zero’s and one’s?
Like fingers, a never ending link that we bind our love around
It can be quite tiresome to live like this, but…
I wouldn’t have it any other way my love, as I take your sleeping hand in mine
We couldn’t have it any other way
Fingers type and tap and pester, inscribing thoughts of feelings onto our skin,
There’s never enough time, and always enough time,
To be strong
To su
Literature
Rosebush
If I were to tell you,
"Life is not a bed of roses."
Would you still continue
To pull the weeds from beneath the rows?
If I said,
"There are some wounds that cannot heal."
Would you still reach between the brambles
And allow the thorns to pierce your skin?
Were I to mention,
"Even the brightest of flowers
Will eventually succumb to time."
Would you still cut the heads
In preparation for the new spring buds?
You simply smile and say;
"Yes.
For even the most vapid vine deserves to be cultivated.
Only then can it bloom
And truly enjoy its time in the sun."
Another SW walked in and out of my life.
we always look for connections in things that don't matter.
we always look for connections in things that don't matter.
© 2015 - 2024 rebel-brat
Comments6
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This is a wonderful poem! I like the use of metaphor ("believe that love is fireworks and paradise.") This makes me think a lot of my past and present.