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Literature Text
I hung myself today,
paper cranes dangling from the rafters alongside me,
because I was jealous of their wings.
I could never fly to you.
I painted the cement today,
lilac concrete beneath my feet,
because the world doesn't seem bright enough.
It's too dreary without you.
I bruised myself today,
just a small flower, black and blue on my hip,
to remind everyone that I'm not the carefullest girl.
At least my heart is safe with you.
I questioned myself today,
wondered if I was an anachronism, someone who just doesn't belong,
because I've never felt right in my own skin.
I've never questioned that I belong with you.
I spoke to the sun today,
asked if its relationship with the moon was going well,
because I know they don't see each other too often.
Sort of how I am with you.
I drew a straight line today,
though it seemed too perfect for my taste,
replaced by one, just a little askew.
My favorite kind of perfect has always been you.
I turned the world right-side-up today,
it's always seemed a little upside down to me,
never quite stable or balanced.
At least not before I met you.
I gave my heart a new battery today,
I guess that's why it never worked before,
always stuttering to a stop inconveniently.
It still does, but in a good way, around you.
I took a polygraph test today,
to see if I still lie to myself,
trying to fool everyone with fake smiles and cheery falsities.
The one who sees past those is you.
I left my age in the dust today,
letting my inner child shatter puddles,
and giggle alone.
I let myself be me,
something I haven't done in a long while.
Something you've unknowingly reminded me how to do.
I may not
have wings,
see the world as bright as it may be,
be the safest, or most graceful,
belong, or fit in like I should,
be able to be in the arms of the one I love,
draw perfectly straight lines,
think the world is perfect,
have the perfect heart, head, or lungs,
be fine when I say I am,
be prim, proper, or act my age.
But I'm in love.
With someone who loves me despite those faults,
and for my strengths, hidden beneath.
Someone who has seen my heart,
knows of my past, and my scars,
and can still embrace me with the same amount of adoration.
I couldn't be more thankful,
that I've found someone,
someone who I can spiral into love with.
Who's arms will be wrapped around me,
as we fight for each other.
Because I will never give up,
as long as you're holding my hand.
paper cranes dangling from the rafters alongside me,
because I was jealous of their wings.
I could never fly to you.
I painted the cement today,
lilac concrete beneath my feet,
because the world doesn't seem bright enough.
It's too dreary without you.
I bruised myself today,
just a small flower, black and blue on my hip,
to remind everyone that I'm not the carefullest girl.
At least my heart is safe with you.
I questioned myself today,
wondered if I was an anachronism, someone who just doesn't belong,
because I've never felt right in my own skin.
I've never questioned that I belong with you.
I spoke to the sun today,
asked if its relationship with the moon was going well,
because I know they don't see each other too often.
Sort of how I am with you.
I drew a straight line today,
though it seemed too perfect for my taste,
replaced by one, just a little askew.
My favorite kind of perfect has always been you.
I turned the world right-side-up today,
it's always seemed a little upside down to me,
never quite stable or balanced.
At least not before I met you.
I gave my heart a new battery today,
I guess that's why it never worked before,
always stuttering to a stop inconveniently.
It still does, but in a good way, around you.
I took a polygraph test today,
to see if I still lie to myself,
trying to fool everyone with fake smiles and cheery falsities.
The one who sees past those is you.
I left my age in the dust today,
letting my inner child shatter puddles,
and giggle alone.
I let myself be me,
something I haven't done in a long while.
Something you've unknowingly reminded me how to do.
I may not
have wings,
see the world as bright as it may be,
be the safest, or most graceful,
belong, or fit in like I should,
be able to be in the arms of the one I love,
draw perfectly straight lines,
think the world is perfect,
have the perfect heart, head, or lungs,
be fine when I say I am,
be prim, proper, or act my age.
But I'm in love.
With someone who loves me despite those faults,
and for my strengths, hidden beneath.
Someone who has seen my heart,
knows of my past, and my scars,
and can still embrace me with the same amount of adoration.
I couldn't be more thankful,
that I've found someone,
someone who I can spiral into love with.
Who's arms will be wrapped around me,
as we fight for each other.
Because I will never give up,
as long as you're holding my hand.
Literature
it was obsession.
{it was monday}
when i texted you at eight a.m. wondering what you were doing for the day.
i texted you at nine too. oh, and ten.
you didn't reply.
i figured you were busy and left you alone.
it was four in the afternoon when i rang you to see if you were okay.
"i was just worried about you. you weren't replying to my texts!"
you said you were okay and that you had to hang out with your family for the evening.
i hung up and said i'd talk to you online later.
at nine p.m. i wrote to you on facebook.
you said you were just signing off and going bed.
you had to be up early.
i said it was okay and to get some sleep.
i went to bed too
Literature
Heartless
If you want to kiss me,
Kiss me
I'm sure I'll enjoy the way you taste
Just don't expect my heart to beat
Don't worry, love.
If you press your ear to my chest
You'll probably hear a steady rhythm
I've filled the gap as best I can
With a composite
Of blood vessels
And nerve endings
My heart?
No, love.
It's not that I've never had one
I just gave it away
To a girl with bright, pretty eyes
She took it with her, you know
Over six thousand miles away
Where it probably picked up
A fine coating of sand
And the smell of gunmetal
Where?
I don't know, love.
I'm not really sure where it is now
Collecting dust, maybe
In a shoebox
Literature
Yin and Yang
"Momma... I have a secret for you.
But you can't tell anyone,
especially not Dad.
Please, not Dad. Okay?"
"What is this world coming to?!
My child, I love you but this is wrong.
I should have known all along.
This is disgusting.
It is not natural, it's habitual
your spending time
with those fags."
"But Momma, this is who I am.
I was hoping that you'd understand,
how I see the beauty in yin and yang.
Men and women are truly the same,
in these blind eyes and open heart.
Is it wrong to love someone,
to see past their body parts?"
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Not sure I like this piece...should probably be a scrap...but I like the idea it represents...just a quick something...
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Comments143
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Love it. Especially the beginning.
I bruised myself today,
just a small flower, black and blue on my hip,
to remind everyone that I'm not the carefullest girl
And
I hung myself today,
paper cranes dangling from the rafters alongside me,
because I was jealous of their wings.
I painted the cement today,
lilac concrete beneath my feet,
because the world doesn't seem bright enough.
It's too dreary without you.
The rhytm of the "concrete" part is flawless.
I love this poem with an undying love. I hope you write poems till I die.
I bruised myself today,
just a small flower, black and blue on my hip,
to remind everyone that I'm not the carefullest girl
And
I hung myself today,
paper cranes dangling from the rafters alongside me,
because I was jealous of their wings.
I painted the cement today,
lilac concrete beneath my feet,
because the world doesn't seem bright enough.
It's too dreary without you.
The rhytm of the "concrete" part is flawless.
I love this poem with an undying love. I hope you write poems till I die.