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Literature Text
i. i will always
be waiting for my
‘someday’.
(would you like
to wait with
me?)
ii. sometimes,
giving up and
letting go
sound awfully nice.
(you are the reason why
i don’t.)
iii. i believe that words
can paint rainbow
sunsets and rivers and
happiness and golden
skies and things full
of life.
(i’m still trying to figure out
how.)
iv. writing non-fiction
makes me feel horribly
self-conscious.
(i’m waiting
for everyone to realize
i’m nothing special.)
v. i don’t want
to belong
to anyone. i
only want to be
mine. i only want
to be
me.
(i like to pretend
i’m independent.)
be waiting for my
‘someday’.
(would you like
to wait with
me?)
ii. sometimes,
giving up and
letting go
sound awfully nice.
(you are the reason why
i don’t.)
iii. i believe that words
can paint rainbow
sunsets and rivers and
happiness and golden
skies and things full
of life.
(i’m still trying to figure out
how.)
iv. writing non-fiction
makes me feel horribly
self-conscious.
(i’m waiting
for everyone to realize
i’m nothing special.)
v. i don’t want
to belong
to anyone. i
only want to be
mine. i only want
to be
me.
(i like to pretend
i’m independent.)
Literature
opposite's day - collab.
i. today i ignored the dismal beating
in my chest [it held me closer than
you ever did] and chased after you
like a lopsided puppy,
watching your skylit legs sink into
shin-deep puddles with indefinable
bottoms. i looked as you left me
miles behind as i shouted
nonsensical wishes and
honeycombed thoughts to you.
[let's drop anchor and stop
this off-course ship with
a handful of windswept lies.]
ii. your eyes are like my mirror -
reflective, deflective, and unforgiving.
[the only way you'll speak to me
is without words.]
one of these days i will write
'ugly ugly ugly' on my forehead
so that on opposite's day,
those baby blu
Literature
this april
The moonlight falls through squinting blinds, bowing softly to hug the arc of his naked body. The blankets are strewn about his toes as a girl, no more than sixteen, lays wide-eyed and warm-bodied beside him.
She silently watches the dreams come and go beneath his eyelids, she quietly feels his chest rise, rise then fall and she listens to the heavy breathing that accompanies it. Beautiful breathing, she thinks, tracing generous lips with fingertips.
The air is cool but she is alight.
Everything in this room bathes in blue shade. She watches the alarm clock beside the bed, numbers coming and going out of fashion before her eyes.
Literature
tragedies - collab.
you deserve all the cobweb dreams,
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.
you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.
it's not like you'd read them,
anyway.
i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'
when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'
so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless d
Suggested Collections
vi. this is nonfiction, and
i'm sorry if it came out
flat.
(crying always makes me feel emotionally drained.)
i'm sorry if it came out
flat.
(crying always makes me feel emotionally drained.)
© 2008 - 2024 Amertie
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I understand the feeling