literature

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intricately-ordinary's avatar
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Literature Text

I'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
week. I am weak, I am of mice and the men who cower
beneath compromisable truths. I have already
made more mistakes than loose fingers in
two days and a little breathing room.
I am not special. I am the worst
kind of normal, and further
more, I am sorry.
I am me.
Hello 2013.

(ramblings and a little too much truth)

:iconglory-be-project:
© 2013 - 2024 intricately-ordinary
Comments41
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forestmeetwildfire's avatar
That last stanza :heart: so painfully yet refreshingly honest.

(but you are special!!)