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Literature Text
I would still love you then.
When the inked sky
fades into the stars
because we stared at them
too long,
when the pages of our beloved books
turn brown
from age and borrowing hands,
when the trees grow taller
and their leaves
fall off
like decembers
spent in
may.
I would still love you then,
but not the way I did before.
When the inked sky
fades into the stars
because we stared at them
too long,
when the pages of our beloved books
turn brown
from age and borrowing hands,
when the trees grow taller
and their leaves
fall off
like decembers
spent in
may.
I would still love you then,
but not the way I did before.
Literature
you're never hopeless
you tell me you feel hopeless
as you talk with tired eyes-
the sky drips with black pen ink
poured on crystal cosmic lights
your eyes become black vacuums-
your words turn to somber sighs,
and I ask you: on the darkest of nights,
have you ever seen a starless sky?
Literature
you are what you love
this girl dreams
far too much;
her bed has turned into
a nightmare graveyard,
full of wilted roses
and broken spines.
wanderlust is a toxin.
one that fills her lungs with each
breath and with every poisoned
heartbeat, she yearns for a world
with moons of gold and a silver sun.
yet—
she would rather listen
to those sweet nothings than have
the philosophy of reality
shoved down her throat.
this girl does not want
to live in black and white;
no, she craves color
and the freedom it tastes like and if
the chains that that shackle her
starving soul refuse to unlock,
she will tear them apart
with her own two hands.
Literature
What have you said at 3 am?
Eyelids are heavy,
thoughts heavier,
feelings heaviest
and they say-
many fears are born
of fatigue and loneliness,
maybe this starlit conversation,
you'll discover
the thing he fears most,
with those sandbag eyes
and train wreck sentences,
is losing you.
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Sometimes endings are beginnings. Sometimes we love who we could.
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Comments7
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I really enjoyef reading this piece with its smooth transition and subtle but powerful delivery.