literature

Almost Perfect

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intricately-ordinary's avatar
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Literature Text

the sun is melting away,
we call it romantic when
all good things die quietly;

I feel like I’m always transitioning
through different levels of sobriety:
spent up on the people in my life
like the girl who doesn’t remember
my name and the boy who thought
I was joking.

(I will care for myself, and
then the world will stop and
spin in the right direction;
the mirror will blur and
I will finally see me,
unfiltered and beautiful)

I just want to believe
that somewhere there’s a boy
ready to sing my bleeding ears
to sleep

with a cinnamon voice, he
will tell me I couldn’t
possibly be human:  something
otherworldly, a moonmaid with
starry eyes come to make
reality surreal

and it would be almost perfect,
floating in that jagged gap where
devotion seems to breed and
where I could finally sleep,
untouched and sober.
sometimes I wonder if he knows I exist
(sometimes I doubt that I do)
© 2013 - 2024 intricately-ordinary
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ThyPoetSorcerer's avatar
I love this and I admire you for writing with such brutally raw emotion. Most of my drafts start like this but I'm too chicken to expose that side of myself entirely.

Btw this totally broke my heart "where devotion seems to breed and
where I could finally sleep...." The knot in my throat's still won't budge.