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Literature Text
i want a man
i can love
ravenously
a man to
love me back
with ferocity
to take me
until we
both ache
a scorching
palpitation, the
type of love
that, even should
we flame out like
shooting stars,
will blaze
to the very
end
i can love
ravenously
a man to
love me back
with ferocity
to take me
until we
both ache
a scorching
palpitation, the
type of love
that, even should
we flame out like
shooting stars,
will blaze
to the very
end
Literature
You, Me, and the Fireflies
There's a stable that holds consistency and horses
and men who don't know the difference.
There are fireflies- nature's dusk, flashlights,
and men who put them in jars.
Like how they think every person is a star.
We are not stars. We are people.
Do not mistake us for being brighter than we are.
Don't put light on our faces and say "look how bright she shines!"
Shining does not make a creature divine.
We are made in the image of who?
So why do we personify the things we are not.
Stars get names.
Babies get names.
Take the sky for what she is, and she will take you for what you are.
How would the world be if winter storms said,
"
Literature
Stars
"Stay In here, don't go out to the streets".
That is what the man said-or whispered- as he opened the window for new air. They were scared, the fear tangible in the humid air around them. They breathed it in slowly, and it filled them up, ran through their body, and overcame their minds.
Outside the ancient, forgotten city is a world unknown. As the innocent people remain locked inside the labyrinth of cobblestone streets, the violence continues outside the majestic doors. There is no end to it.
"I-I think I can hear them"
Them? Who are They? They are nothing but mere pawns on a battered chessboard; each one so close to the death that has
Literature
radar love
dear you,
i like you so much i want you
to snake your arm down my
throat and tug me inside out;
bend down your head to my black
eastern seagull and kiss it, find
my liver and apologise. i want you
to pluck the old snowflakes from
my stomach and watch them spill
across the pub floor.
your hands can live in my jeans
if you want. you can bite down
on my fingers.
life's for the brave, for the people
who aren't afraid to say FUCK and
drink bad beer. so i'm gonna get on
this bus! i'm gonna shave my head!
i'm gonna drink this tequila sunrise
and crane my head to the moon
like its your face in the morning.
it doesn't matter how
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Yeah, like that...
Cut the first two stanzas. Thanks for the help, hp.
Cut the first two stanzas. Thanks for the help, hp.
© 2008 - 2024 Blueskye27
Comments73
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Oooo.... Sounds so good.