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Literature Text
- he's a beautiful boy dressed as a nightmare, and he manages to lull everyone into his eyes. tendrils of blood trail after his delicate fingers, and he says he can be taken higher than ever. he holds you as gently as possible, and his skin silently burns alongside yours. something about his kisses tastes not quite right, but when he presses his red, red lips harder against yours, you can't quite focus.
he paints mirages of broken legs and collapsed hearts, draws suns of forgotten dreams and fearsome pulsations. because somehow, he doesn't survive, doesn't live through storms of fire, doesn't end up seeing the light of day. he scratches at the smudges on his skin and he whispers to his art, your side has become cold, and sometimes i don't want to be with you anymore.
you were a love of art that was taken too far.
Literature
Memories of You
(I)
Summer's heat clung to us
like guilty secrets,
so at odds with our childish delight.
We never kept track of the time,
but we knew that we'd been out too long
when our heavy limbs were patterned
with grass and freckles.
I told you that freckles were sun kisses,
and you said that you weren't the jealous type,
but you didn't act like it, did you?
(II)
We combined good posture with slouchy clothes
and found comfort in straight-backed iron chairs.
We rode public buses until midnight
and picked our favourite cafés
based on the songs they played,
thinking that music and food were equal
to our ideas of lo
Literature
Lovegrass
Her grip so tight my knuckles ache
with each pull and swing we bound
off one another,
a twirl here,
and a jive there,
to bring us back around,
(in Time)
to the bass note that I feel to my heel.
It's a Thunder in the chest that leaves no choice
Like muscle m
Literature
Undelivered
or:
how to write to peter
i. sprinkle pixie dust on
one feather of a whisper
ii. blow a kiss to nudge
the dictations of your heart
from a fourth-story windowsill
iii. crawl (sloth-toed) onto the roof
& stretch your third eye
to watch your letter cross state lines
iv. shiver restlessly until
v. suddenly!
vi. you feel your feather of a whisper
nestle in his concave
mailbox:
the space where his left collarbone meets his neck strings
"if i were you i would want me back"
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tell me, what do you make of this?
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#theWrittenRevolution: does the vagueness add to the impact of the piece?
(critique: [link])
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comments/opinions/faves?
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#theWrittenRevolution: does the vagueness add to the impact of the piece?
(critique: [link])
---
comments/opinions/faves?
© 2011 - 2024 electrickiss
Comments43
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I love this, very nicely worded!
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