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Literature Text
The silent boy on the bus with his wild curls and long fingers curled languidly around a dog-eared book.
Fall in love with him.
Imagine a future where you sit curled in his lap remarking about the world going by. Imagine breakfasts full off each other, with his duvet around your legs and you swimming in his too large t-shirt. Hear the story about where he got it: an obscure band that played when he was 18 - the last great adventure before he escaped to college.
Imagine the conversations you'd have with his friends; buried under the weight of his arm as you down beers and debate politics. Imagine the life he leads and how seamlessly you'd fit in with him.
Get off the bus never speaking to him.
The bartender with his charming smiles and easy winks, his sure hand pouring each shot perfectly measured to the tempo of top 40s.
Fall in love with him.
Imagine forbidden trysts in the backroom. Imagine waking up in his messy apartment with the lingering musk of day-old cigarettes and spilt whiskey. Hear him extrapolate about the patrons he serves each night. Imagine waiting for him at the bar while he scrubs down before heading to an after-hours place he goes to meet the rest of his friends. Watch as they wind down from work. Watch as they drink till the first light of dawn. Imagine thinking this is a kind of enable-ism.
Imagine sitting with him on his fire escape, lazily swirling his glass of shiraz while a cigarette dangles from his lips. Hear him speak of his uni days, what he wanted to be before the city swallowed him whole and spat him out jaded.
Order another shot and walk away giggling as he winks at you.
Your best friend's old college roommate: meet him at a housewarming party. Fall for his crooked grin and wicked humour. Watch as he commands the party, floating from person to person; watch as he artfully steers stragglers together, mingling effortlessly. Charm him with your acerbic retorts. Stay up talking to each other till the last bottle is empty. Offer to help him clean up. Drop all pretences and kiss each other. Imagine that this would be what it'd be like to be with him.
Wake up to the gentle light streaming through a gap in the blinds. Imagine waking up to him every morning. Watch as he smiles sleepily at you. Allow him to get you coffee. Allow yourself to stay five more minutes, ok, maybe another five... Watch as the day slips away. Laugh in bed with him, cocooned in the magic of last night and his blankets. Build a fort with comedies and stories of his past. Hear him talk about his present.
Get dressed as the sun begins to set and allow him to walk you out.
Fall in love with the memory of a perfect day.
Don't exchange numbers.
Catch glances with the hipster sitting across the crowded cafe.
Fall in love with him.
Him, with his horn rimmed glasses and manic typing into his Macbook. Imagine he's writing a novel... He probably is. Imagine debating about Hemingway and Woolf. Imagine going to film screenings playing obscure french animations.
Imagine drinking PBR (ironically, of course) and listening to Lana del Rey. Imagine sitting around a campfire while he plays a song he wrote on his guitar.
Finish your coffee and leave.
Fall in love with the cute boy in the library on campus. You know the one. You've seen him around a few times.
Imagine the one time you'll actually meet. You'll be wearing a cute skirt with your hair falling just right out of your messy bun and he'll bump into you while long boarding to his next class, sending both of you tumbling.
Imagine he'll be quietly confident in his apologies, stumbling over little words. Imagine he'll do a double take when he really sees you. Imagine he'll say, "don't I know you from somewhere?"
Walk past his table tog et a book. Hope he'll look up and smile at you.
He doesn't.
Fall in love with strangers because sometimes the imagined is better than reality. Fall in love with strangers because the human capacity for romance is breathtaking. Write about falling in love so that eventually, when you do, you can look back and laugh at how you could have ever thought that what you imagined would be better than this indescribable happy that makes you glow.
Lock eyes with the boy on the bus, with the bartender, with the hipster, with the boy in the library, with your best friend's old roommate. Be the one that walks away and leave them imagining.
Fall in love with him.
Imagine a future where you sit curled in his lap remarking about the world going by. Imagine breakfasts full off each other, with his duvet around your legs and you swimming in his too large t-shirt. Hear the story about where he got it: an obscure band that played when he was 18 - the last great adventure before he escaped to college.
Imagine the conversations you'd have with his friends; buried under the weight of his arm as you down beers and debate politics. Imagine the life he leads and how seamlessly you'd fit in with him.
Get off the bus never speaking to him.
The bartender with his charming smiles and easy winks, his sure hand pouring each shot perfectly measured to the tempo of top 40s.
Fall in love with him.
Imagine forbidden trysts in the backroom. Imagine waking up in his messy apartment with the lingering musk of day-old cigarettes and spilt whiskey. Hear him extrapolate about the patrons he serves each night. Imagine waiting for him at the bar while he scrubs down before heading to an after-hours place he goes to meet the rest of his friends. Watch as they wind down from work. Watch as they drink till the first light of dawn. Imagine thinking this is a kind of enable-ism.
Imagine sitting with him on his fire escape, lazily swirling his glass of shiraz while a cigarette dangles from his lips. Hear him speak of his uni days, what he wanted to be before the city swallowed him whole and spat him out jaded.
Order another shot and walk away giggling as he winks at you.
Your best friend's old college roommate: meet him at a housewarming party. Fall for his crooked grin and wicked humour. Watch as he commands the party, floating from person to person; watch as he artfully steers stragglers together, mingling effortlessly. Charm him with your acerbic retorts. Stay up talking to each other till the last bottle is empty. Offer to help him clean up. Drop all pretences and kiss each other. Imagine that this would be what it'd be like to be with him.
Wake up to the gentle light streaming through a gap in the blinds. Imagine waking up to him every morning. Watch as he smiles sleepily at you. Allow him to get you coffee. Allow yourself to stay five more minutes, ok, maybe another five... Watch as the day slips away. Laugh in bed with him, cocooned in the magic of last night and his blankets. Build a fort with comedies and stories of his past. Hear him talk about his present.
Get dressed as the sun begins to set and allow him to walk you out.
Fall in love with the memory of a perfect day.
Don't exchange numbers.
Catch glances with the hipster sitting across the crowded cafe.
Fall in love with him.
Him, with his horn rimmed glasses and manic typing into his Macbook. Imagine he's writing a novel... He probably is. Imagine debating about Hemingway and Woolf. Imagine going to film screenings playing obscure french animations.
Imagine drinking PBR (ironically, of course) and listening to Lana del Rey. Imagine sitting around a campfire while he plays a song he wrote on his guitar.
Finish your coffee and leave.
Fall in love with the cute boy in the library on campus. You know the one. You've seen him around a few times.
Imagine the one time you'll actually meet. You'll be wearing a cute skirt with your hair falling just right out of your messy bun and he'll bump into you while long boarding to his next class, sending both of you tumbling.
Imagine he'll be quietly confident in his apologies, stumbling over little words. Imagine he'll do a double take when he really sees you. Imagine he'll say, "don't I know you from somewhere?"
Walk past his table tog et a book. Hope he'll look up and smile at you.
He doesn't.
Fall in love with strangers because sometimes the imagined is better than reality. Fall in love with strangers because the human capacity for romance is breathtaking. Write about falling in love so that eventually, when you do, you can look back and laugh at how you could have ever thought that what you imagined would be better than this indescribable happy that makes you glow.
Lock eyes with the boy on the bus, with the bartender, with the hipster, with the boy in the library, with your best friend's old roommate. Be the one that walks away and leave them imagining.
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
Love: a Poem
Love is the butterflies,
this internal rush.
Love is the shyness,
my pink facial flush.
Love is the buzz
that I hear with your name.
Love, as emotion,
by far is least tame.
Love knows no reason
I haven't a clue.
Love is what's drawing
my thoughts back to you.
Literature
Millions
Let me a weave a fantasy out of the cadence in my words, the tone of my voice, a rhyme fixed to a rhythm fixed in a choice Let my words bring a dream of a world to life, Where immortality is a reality free from strife Every hurdle surpassed by pure grit, determination, a bold dash of wit that lets us flit and fly way into a daydream of golden days Made of perfect summer nights and brilliant winter days having adventures where hurt leads to growth and pain heals. Because reality doesn't. We awake from dreams and close books to happily ever afters finding that the mundane is wearying and So close to hopeless that they're synonyms Just as 'wise man' has become an oxymoron because there are no wise men nor wise women just men and women and people living amid a dying world screaming at us through wildfires and gunshots plastic-wrapped and choking. We leave our minds and enter tired bodies, tired eyes, tired burdens others have set upon others set upon themselves There is no fantasy
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Comments6
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Holy shit, Char. Absolutely amazing. Aside from knowing that I do this too, every word sunk deep. penetrated my soul in a way I haven't felt since last time I read from you. I related particularly to the dog-eared book boy on the bus and your best friend's old room mate.
I love the way it ended because I like to think that the strangers that I admire are the ones that are imagining our hypothetical future. Trading glances doesn't cost a thing, so I always make sure to catch their eyes.
Once again, you've taken me to a beautiful place and blown me away with your words.
I love the way it ended because I like to think that the strangers that I admire are the ones that are imagining our hypothetical future. Trading glances doesn't cost a thing, so I always make sure to catch their eyes.
Once again, you've taken me to a beautiful place and blown me away with your words.