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Literature Text
She sits in the corner, her knees a burnt-hot white from how tight she squeezes her legs against her chest. The thumps sound in silence, as even she doesn't hear herself as she rocks into the wall. (Her position may be fetal, but she's no baby to be shaken). Her face shows the past: some scarred into her eyes, and others still dried upon her face from moments ago. Blank thoughts have brought her to a temporary end - a breakdown that not even tears can slip through. She continues her motionful stance, stuck in her routine, incapable of ever escaping it. She's a tamed fire: touch her, and you'll sizzle too. When she smiles, her teeth flash embers because one simple word can set her off - leaving her to flame on her own. Slowly, she burns herself away. Every thump sizzles her out as the tears evaporate off her skin; however, she can never let go, for even her stance burns white-hot.
Literature
Escrtito #2 que te dedico.
Ya mi mente envenenada con tu persona ni siquiera puede recordar la razón del por qué estos sentimientos tan destructivos que siento por ti. Ni siquiera sé si tienen sentido mis palabras, cuando hablo de ti me siento como una loca enjaula. Mi locura es el amor que me provocas y mi jaula el deseo que no sacio. Me siento como una estúpida porque me tienes a tus pies y lo sabes, lo sabes porque mi actitud incontrolable te lo demostró. Hay algo que si recuerdo, aquel primer día de clases, aquel sol de 8am que encendía tu pelo color caramelo, aquella mirada profunda atrapada en el vidrio de tus lentes, las vuelta
Literature
Mirrored
Where once the spirit did decline, It found no way to move ahead, The obstacles once bent, align And lead our heroine instead Onwards to a clearer place Where one can move at measured pace Not breakneck speed in panic's thrall Walk steady, strong, not falter - fall, She strides through that which render weak The bravest souls who conquer death And dares to face her foes and speak - "I'll never quell another breath, For I am not your enemy You merely see yourself in me."
Literature
perennial
grief visits me today.
he watches as i write about you,
putting his hand on my arm
to stop the words
from shaking.
the river of veins is a blue glare
beneath his waxen skin, the valleys
under his eyes dark with our shared
misery.
i don’t ask where he’s been, or why
he’s suddenly back. i don’t want to know
who else he’d been with
when he was gone.
“you look better,” he says, pulling my hand
from the notebook. he
kisses it, holds it to his cheek.
the weaker parts of my spirit surge at his cold
familiarity.
i trace the arch of his lips to avoid
his eyes, ask him if he’d forgotten
about m
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The emotions never go, they're always there. One match burning with words and we set off into a flame that slowly sizzles out in its environment.
[If you're going to leave a comment telling me it's because I'm a teenager, I'm a girl, and because I'm moody - don't even bother. I've had enough of hearing that sh*t. I am so SICK of being stereotypically judged... At least the anger you've caused me inspired fire metaphor more beautiful than your words.]
[If you're going to leave a comment telling me it's because I'm a teenager, I'm a girl, and because I'm moody - don't even bother. I've had enough of hearing that sh*t. I am so SICK of being stereotypically judged... At least the anger you've caused me inspired fire metaphor more beautiful than your words.]
© 2015 - 2024 LMW-The-Poet
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I get it