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Literature Text
I press the ghosts of dead leaves to my eyelids,
as if to etch their veins and the whispers of edges
in grey against the back of my eyes,
as if to replace the places you cleaved to
and I cleaved.
They are sighs,
last breaths before the letting go
and the fall.
Dead, they are fragile before the wind
and crackle pale protest against my fingertips;
soon they will be gone and done, and gone
and gone.
I let them go,
and, watching, trace with my lips
a prayer for loss
and for the journey.
as if to etch their veins and the whispers of edges
in grey against the back of my eyes,
as if to replace the places you cleaved to
and I cleaved.
They are sighs,
last breaths before the letting go
and the fall.
Dead, they are fragile before the wind
and crackle pale protest against my fingertips;
soon they will be gone and done, and gone
and gone.
I let them go,
and, watching, trace with my lips
a prayer for loss
and for the journey.
Literature
Fifteen Things
1.
I lied about never
getting in trouble in school;
once I was in a time
out in kindergarten--
I never said so,
but you already knew.
2.
I don't think I ever
lived my life without
the hidden motive
to hurt myself.
3.
Once and a while,
I pretend I'm still alive.
4.
I make myself talk
when he does
even though
my mouth feels glued
shut. It hurts to
let myself breathe
deep after the words take my air.
5.
I'd rather be hyper-aware than
unaware. That's why the
blood wins over drugs. The
endorphins work better than
hallucinogenics ever will.
6.
I don't think I know
what love means anymore.
Maybe I never really
did. I
Literature
nine reasons why you should
nine reasons why you should never love a poet:
one.
we like to hear things like 'you're beautiful' and
'i'd die without you' but deep inside we always know
you don't mean it.
and it just tears us apart slowly, no matter how much
we love those poisonous lies.
two.
and when you ask 'are you okay?', we're going to
answer with 'i'm fine'. and you'll hear that
even if our bones are shattering inside of us and
our hands are trembling from all the hurt that we go through.
three.
because we play our music too-loud-to-bear so that,
when we're all alone,
it chases away the thoughts that come with the silence:
things that haun
Literature
confusing stars for satellites
i dream of your arms
around me, in empty hallways
lit by nightlights like dreams, imagine that
your breath would be like raindrops, maybe,
and i'll be the river
into which they fall, and i'd catch you,
lightly, i promise
we won't make a sound,
like mice on christmas eve, tiptoe across
holly staircases, tiptoe
on lakes, dance and watch
the moonlight shadow our
reflections, dance
around my dreams, in them,
and find that i would
fax you a smile, a rainbow, a
sunny day, even
my heart -
and yes, it's yours,
but only if
you hold me.
Suggested Collections
Someday I will write a poem
and the 'you' in it will not be you,
but Spring.
It's cold in Providence.
and the 'you' in it will not be you,
but Spring.
It's cold in Providence.
© 2008 - 2024 theashesrisetoo
Comments2
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This is a great poem. I won't spoil things by trying to point out exactly why it's so great but you definitely have some wonderful things going on in this poem on a million different levels.