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Literature Text
i grind my palm into my stomach
and it crumbles like the soft rock
towering the highway, crashing on
the paved road.
i am not at a loss as to how it is
i became so weak. i sat myself
down one night a while ago
as i shivered from your words,
and i said
soak it in, let it poison you.
i am not a drug addict. but in you
i looked for the possibility of feeling.
and you did poison me.
i sit within dreams where your mouth
is wet, and tugging me, and my
hands are pressed deep within the
parts of you that stay warm.
i am not cold. but my bones ache
as if they are, perhaps it is because
you are so close, or perhaps it is
because the air stills when you
are near.
in the morning i wake with my mouth
dry and my palms wet and my shoulders
aching. and my voice stumbles, as if it
slipped out in the middle of the night
to find you.
i can never find you.
i do not blame you
for the absence.
i know that if you were brave enough
you would stay. i know that if your
skin did not crawl with fever from
the possibility of me, the lack of me
you would be here.
and it crumbles like the soft rock
towering the highway, crashing on
the paved road.
i am not at a loss as to how it is
i became so weak. i sat myself
down one night a while ago
as i shivered from your words,
and i said
soak it in, let it poison you.
i am not a drug addict. but in you
i looked for the possibility of feeling.
and you did poison me.
i sit within dreams where your mouth
is wet, and tugging me, and my
hands are pressed deep within the
parts of you that stay warm.
i am not cold. but my bones ache
as if they are, perhaps it is because
you are so close, or perhaps it is
because the air stills when you
are near.
in the morning i wake with my mouth
dry and my palms wet and my shoulders
aching. and my voice stumbles, as if it
slipped out in the middle of the night
to find you.
i can never find you.
i do not blame you
for the absence.
i know that if you were brave enough
you would stay. i know that if your
skin did not crawl with fever from
the possibility of me, the lack of me
you would be here.
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
On strength
A sunlit cobweb -
only the spider knows
how many times
it broke
Literature
Silence
Whenever I'm alone with you, I can never think straight
I can't say what I want to say or do what I want to do
So usually we sit without saying anything
But when you hold me in your arms, everything is perfect
And I know we'll have to speak eventually
But for now let's just enjoy the silence :heart:
Suggested Collections
MBTI and ramblings from stress and lack of sleep and whatever else it is i'm experiencing.
© 2014 - 2024 KaitForest
Comments8
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i am not a drug addict. but in you
i looked for the possibility of feeling.
hearts.
i looked for the possibility of feeling.
hearts.