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Literature Text
you decided a long
time ago, a long time
before it affected your
sight to remember me -
before it throbbed
inside you when someone
uttered my three-syllable
name; oh Tangerine -
that only will you
fight when I widened
the perimeters of
your sore-sighted faults.
you didn't know yet, no-
you were only
suckling at the idea of
changing the world and
looking down at my crawling endeavors
to walk before my
patellas were ready.
I heard them scream
when I was seven, the skin
above them reddened with
the purple of a betrayed
bruise.
sweet lover, does the color wheel
work backwards where I'm from? I was already
so cold, spinning like
the rebellion of an odd
tiny magnet in a terrorist
field. my darling,
do the Sufis miss my
sleepless, praying nights to you?
do they
tell my stories still, even
after you disappeared? my love,
do they still wait
for death to follow me?
you were always gold; summer
skeletons lay still and dusted
in my closet for you. I did not
leave you in my being, my dear, nor
did we part from our crossroads;
our bend in the road stays
stranded where I am, still
half-baked and incomplete
the way your
faults and mine concur
and conquer all that is left
of our frivolous
stay.
time ago, a long time
before it affected your
sight to remember me -
before it throbbed
inside you when someone
uttered my three-syllable
name; oh Tangerine -
that only will you
fight when I widened
the perimeters of
your sore-sighted faults.
you didn't know yet, no-
you were only
suckling at the idea of
changing the world and
looking down at my crawling endeavors
to walk before my
patellas were ready.
I heard them scream
when I was seven, the skin
above them reddened with
the purple of a betrayed
bruise.
sweet lover, does the color wheel
work backwards where I'm from? I was already
so cold, spinning like
the rebellion of an odd
tiny magnet in a terrorist
field. my darling,
do the Sufis miss my
sleepless, praying nights to you?
do they
tell my stories still, even
after you disappeared? my love,
do they still wait
for death to follow me?
you were always gold; summer
skeletons lay still and dusted
in my closet for you. I did not
leave you in my being, my dear, nor
did we part from our crossroads;
our bend in the road stays
stranded where I am, still
half-baked and incomplete
the way your
faults and mine concur
and conquer all that is left
of our frivolous
stay.
Literature
Paint
I'd like to storm Heaven and steal God's paintbrushes.
Then I'd paint rainbows all over the sky so
Everyone knows it's safe to come out.
Literature
Apocalypta
Dawn breaks soft,
You are sun glare
in the rearview;
and I, the heavy mist
ahead
on a road that forgets to end.
Literature
Paper thin
Waiting for that salty breeze
to carry my feather like weight
Away
further
and one morning I will hug the shore
and kiss the bits of that sand as they call
You are home
Here
Broken, paper thin memories
Rusty laughter rings again
We waited
you came
My eyes full of cotton clouds
and I lay there, my heart at peace
and I dream
You
Suggested Collections
is the same in our hearts.
© 2014 - 2024 your-methamphetamine
Comments24
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I took a leave from your poetry because it touches me too deeply for me to control my reactions, but oh how I missed losing myself in the loves of your words.