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Literature Text
this morning I woke in
the middle of the ocean after
a night of your gentle waves lulling
me to sleep,
you smiled at my wet lips
and heavy eyes and said
never regret this smile, never forget
this joy.
we linger here now, in between
worlds, washed up
ashore.
the middle of the ocean after
a night of your gentle waves lulling
me to sleep,
you smiled at my wet lips
and heavy eyes and said
never regret this smile, never forget
this joy.
we linger here now, in between
worlds, washed up
ashore.
Literature
Hollow
Here amidst the bones bleached white,
the echoes become trapped in ribcages
like a heartbeat.
But it’s just a sound.
No blood pumps through the
marrow thick like
baby’s breath-
flowers for someone who is sick or dying or
dead.
No light shines
under the skin and muscle.
How dark it must be for the
delicate, fleshy bits underneath.
The lungs don’t know when it’s time to
go. No moon to guide them.
How do they know when to
stop?
Does the heart even know the color
of blood?
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
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Tried some magnetic poetry. I had to add in a few words of my own or it wouldn't make any grammatical sense
© 2013 - 2024 forestmeetwildfire
Comments22
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Such serenity! The association between sea and sleeping with a loved one is one that has crossed my mind as well but I could never dream of wording it so concisely and yet smoothly, aesthetically. What strikes me most is the sound of it - even when I read it aloud it sounds so soft and gentle, the words and letters you use fit the scene so well not only in meaning but in shape as well.