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Literature Text
A young woman
wakes up
in the morning
with the light
from her blinds
making stripes
on her skin.
She throws
the heavy covers
off herself
and leaves them
on the floor,
before scrambling
to fix her mistake.
She closes
her eyes.
wakes up
in the morning
with the light
from her blinds
making stripes
on her skin.
She throws
the heavy covers
off herself
and leaves them
on the floor,
before scrambling
to fix her mistake.
She closes
her eyes.
Literature
Thoughts
I'm so sick of not being perfect
I'm sick of hurting people
I'm tired of doing nothing right
I'm tired of holding back
Let me scream
Let me lash out
Let me show you the other side of me
And try telling me you still know me
Everything confined inside
It builds until I almost burst
My eyes grow heavy
My fingers claw at my arms
Tear out my hair
Twitch for the blade
I hold back
But I can only hold so much
Then I do it again
I screw up
I hurt
I break
And I fall again
Self-loathing is almost a comfort
I often wonder why
Why am I this way
Why am I messed up
Answers won't be found
I'm sick of hating myself
I'm sick of hidin
Literature
Lillefey
I breathe words into your lungs
trapping syllables inside your ribs until they echo
inside
shadow words taking form;
hope flight resting in the spaces
until we speak with the same tongue
tripping whole and unwhole,
until we breathe together (as one).
Your rhythm is mine
and I'm torn asunder in the gentle warmth of you.
Your body is a ship in the ocean
held underneath salt crystals that clasp you
as tight as an oyster
and I open your dress and let it fall
to the sand
and my hands trace those tender curves in the wan light
of morning, in a sea we created last night.
You see yourself as a wreck you seek to plunder
but I see only the skeleton o
Literature
Sometimes I Wish
Sometimes, I wish I could forget.
Forget about how we would sit up in your bedroom and giggle in hushed voices,
Or forget how when you'd come over to my house we'd share secrets and wishes.
I wish I could forget how you'd tell me that I was beautiful, when really the beauty was always in you.
Sometimes, I wish I could forget.
Forget about all of our inside jokes, and how we spoke.
Or forget how I told you all my secrets and let you see everything in me.
I wish I could forget how much you knew.
Sometimes I wish I could forget.
Forget about how you'd always tell me that you wished you were better.
Or forget about how I always said t
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Another short poem that hopefully talks a bit. A bit tongue-in-cheek
Comments of all sorts welcome and wanted, I want to make sure my work is at a level where it can receive a valuable critique
Comments of all sorts welcome and wanted, I want to make sure my work is at a level where it can receive a valuable critique
© 2012 - 2024 FallingAsleepTonight
Comments14
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A cryptic poem to be sure. As I read this over and over, trying to find the meaning, I realize, that, at least to me, the meaning isnt really the importance of the poem, so much as that I like it- the short, sweetness of the words, the elegance of such a well painted image with simple word strokes.