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Literature Text
I now prefer
my beauty
nameless
so I can quake
and curse fate
blameless
bereft
of the burden
of discovery
avoiding left by
almost alright with
anonymity
see
once you learn
to love
it's like
riding a bike
and it seems
I never met a liar
that I didn't like
and/or
I love you's
not a sentence
that lasts
for life
or perhaps
(and this
possibility
just occurred
to me)
there's a sort of
painful
parole
obtained through
perjury
so
what's a boy
to fear
when fear's not
what it appears
to be?
how to
intuit an intent
when purpose is
a question
in perpetuity?
my beauty
nameless
so I can quake
and curse fate
blameless
bereft
of the burden
of discovery
avoiding left by
almost alright with
anonymity
see
once you learn
to love
it's like
riding a bike
and it seems
I never met a liar
that I didn't like
and/or
I love you's
not a sentence
that lasts
for life
or perhaps
(and this
possibility
just occurred
to me)
there's a sort of
painful
parole
obtained through
perjury
so
what's a boy
to fear
when fear's not
what it appears
to be?
how to
intuit an intent
when purpose is
a question
in perpetuity?
Literature
opposite's day - collab.
i. today i ignored the dismal beating
in my chest [it held me closer than
you ever did] and chased after you
like a lopsided puppy,
watching your skylit legs sink into
shin-deep puddles with indefinable
bottoms. i looked as you left me
miles behind as i shouted
nonsensical wishes and
honeycombed thoughts to you.
[let's drop anchor and stop
this off-course ship with
a handful of windswept lies.]
ii. your eyes are like my mirror -
reflective, deflective, and unforgiving.
[the only way you'll speak to me
is without words.]
one of these days i will write
'ugly ugly ugly' on my forehead
so that on opposite's day,
those baby blu
Literature
balance beams.
one.
it is three a.m.
and even the crickets are
sleeping. the only sounds
are the commercials on t.v.
and the soft noise of my
breathing.
it is three a.m.
and my night light is broken
and it is too dark, too
quiet, and there is a monster
in my heart and
he won't go away.
two.
just so you know:
i named the monster
after you.
three.
i dreamed that we were
in a cave, black and blue. there was
a bottomless lake full of hope
and unwanted memories, and
we were
running, screaming, searching
for an exit
only to find
that there wasn't one.
four.
i spend my life on balance beams,
and
i can only try
not to fall off.
five.
Literature
confessions of lostwithoutyou.
i'm not a liar. but i never told you that you always looked best in black. i liked how your skin would fade to a paler shade of perfection and your perfect teeth would glint a little brighter. and i could pretend for an evening that you were my black and white dream come true. and with you there would be no shades of inbetweens and no grays for us to get lost in. i never told you but it's true.
+
i was never able to tell you, but i hate the way you cook your 'specialty' eggs. you always laughed over your shoulder and told me that they are the best food ill ever eat, that i was blessed to get the chance to taste them melt
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who wrote the book of love
and threw it at them
and threw it at them
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