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Literature Text
i am waiting outside your window,
eyes and fingers and lips your favourite shade of blue
breath as still and quiet as the snow.
stop.
the sill is frozen.
tomorrow, i do not expect the dawn.
it is a great relief.
eyes and fingers and lips your favourite shade of blue
breath as still and quiet as the snow.
stop.
the sill is frozen.
tomorrow, i do not expect the dawn.
it is a great relief.
Literature
falling sickness.
one.
he reminded you of comets colliding and holding your breath underwater and bedtime stories. he was your rainbow, your sunny sky, your ledge to hold onto and the song you fell asleep listening to each night.
you couldn't get him out of your head.
you didn't even want to.
two.
there was no choice, no other option. there was nothing - nothing but him and the promises in his eyes and the whispers from his lips.
there was nothing but falling.
three.
he made you smile, made you laugh, made you want to live again. the two of you would go to the park just to watch the shadows chase each other on the ground. he'd hold your hand and tell y
Literature
glitter.
you wrote me love letters from the passenger seat,
pressing stars to my eyelids and hearts to my forehead.
you wrote me lies.
x
like the summer months, you never stick around long enough to make a lasting impression.
winter always takes over, cold
fingertips washing away all past evidence of the blistering friction once there.
(the only way I made it through was remembering that
youre only another calendar away; that youll come back.
I dont think Ill make it through this time.)
o
Id write you every word in the french-english dictionary if only one would spark a memory.
you seem unable to reminisce and
Literature
The Yellowiest December
She was atheist and
he was a painter who
believed in everything
and the world, the glories
it held, endless fountains of
knowledge to be obtained.
"It's an amazing situation,"
he mused, running his hands
through her red hair.
She believed in asbestos,
that it was her favorite
color and he believed that she
needed more things to believe in.
He ate cranberry sauce while she
read him poetry about cats and disciples
and classical compositions and the
relevance in it all. It
was all he could do to say, "Wow,"
staring at the sky, effusion of clouds
draining, pouring out before dispersing.
Her blue flower dress smelt of
chamo
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just give me time.
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Comments10
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wonderful impactful brilliant.
seven lines that slapped me right across the face and made me shiver up and down my spine. great stuff.
seven lines that slapped me right across the face and made me shiver up and down my spine. great stuff.