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Literature Text
if I could
I’d love you like
those couples who grow
into each other and make
poetry out of body language
and wear one another’s
weaknesses when they get
too heavy and talk about
the weather without ever really
meaning the weather at all;
and you’d keep me from
falling asleep in the ocean
and I’d lie about little
things, always confusing
Sunday for Tuesday and
you for somebody with
the same face who
was always afraid of
me. you’d chuckle and
hold me and I’d cave in to
you like the hungry tide
and you’d say I looked
beautiful when I cried
and I wouldn’t believe you
but I’d cry more anyways.
if people were alive,
you’d be the brightest
one. I don’t have much
to offer but I could write you
a million dedications
in the sand, and give you
pocket change when you
needed a wish; I could
take you to New Zealand
to paint water lilies or England
to go skydiving or Italy
to fall in love and mean it
and I would promise you
the moon and take you to visit
on a night when it looks
beautiful and open and
safe.
people like me weren’t
cut out for this, I spend
most of my time trying to
forget who I am. today,
I decided to defy the theory
of progress and reimagine
the psychology of reoccurring
dreams. I’m already sorry for
the ways I’d care about you
if you let me,
but I just want to talk to you
about the weather and
the storm gathering inside
of me.
I’d love you like
those couples who grow
into each other and make
poetry out of body language
and wear one another’s
weaknesses when they get
too heavy and talk about
the weather without ever really
meaning the weather at all;
and you’d keep me from
falling asleep in the ocean
and I’d lie about little
things, always confusing
Sunday for Tuesday and
you for somebody with
the same face who
was always afraid of
me. you’d chuckle and
hold me and I’d cave in to
you like the hungry tide
and you’d say I looked
beautiful when I cried
and I wouldn’t believe you
but I’d cry more anyways.
if people were alive,
you’d be the brightest
one. I don’t have much
to offer but I could write you
a million dedications
in the sand, and give you
pocket change when you
needed a wish; I could
take you to New Zealand
to paint water lilies or England
to go skydiving or Italy
to fall in love and mean it
and I would promise you
the moon and take you to visit
on a night when it looks
beautiful and open and
safe.
people like me weren’t
cut out for this, I spend
most of my time trying to
forget who I am. today,
I decided to defy the theory
of progress and reimagine
the psychology of reoccurring
dreams. I’m already sorry for
the ways I’d care about you
if you let me,
but I just want to talk to you
about the weather and
the storm gathering inside
of me.
Literature
I Am
I am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
I am.
Literature
Wistful
"I am the boy who wants to love
your misshapen words,
your broken hearted pieces,
and
your ink split fingers.
I am the boy who wants to kiss
those scar tattooed arms,
that tear stained face
and
mend what has been broken.
I am the boy who can
and will
make your heart
sing poetry again."
If only he would say it
now
like he had
then.
Literature
Bones mend, but tell no lies.
You have cataloged your scars
like your body is a library-
to be read through &
learned from.
You think of
all the little boys
whose greedy fingers
graced
your pages.
You are angry-
none
cared for you
properly:
folding
creasing
& breaking
your spine.
They left you
on a shelf
to gather dust.
& why
should you ever
forget that?
Suggested Collections
and we'd rename the stars as people we used to know
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I want to CRY!!!