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Literature Text
She's always seen during
daylight -
yet her beauty is
nocturnal.
I, with shaking hands
[and nerves],
wrapped her round me
like a scarf,
though she still gives
me midnight chills
and spasms of pain
Her friends pick daisies and
pierce the stems with their
fingernails,
link them together like
married couples
who are pulled out of their
beds by love
[pushed back down
by alcohol and the
need to please].
She bent over,
between my knees -
showed me a good time,
alright.
Mynoose scarf
turned to a shawl
the way seasons inevitably
change
Hearts litter the room as
the house of cards fall,
the king and queen of the pack
face up to the ceiling -
they are trapped;
pick up the diamonds, darling--
[never mind the jack]
I woke up to lightning's
metallic scent,
she laid there: spent
and I pressed my finger
to her lips
as a nice gesture.
I leaned in, closer,
whispered sweet
nothingness into her ear
[fleeting fingers
through hair],
then I started screeching:
her silence is just too beautiful to bear.
daylight -
yet her beauty is
nocturnal.
I, with shaking hands
[and nerves],
wrapped her round me
like a scarf,
though she still gives
me midnight chills
and spasms of pain
Her friends pick daisies and
pierce the stems with their
fingernails,
link them together like
married couples
who are pulled out of their
beds by love
[pushed back down
by alcohol and the
need to please].
She bent over,
between my knees -
showed me a good time,
alright.
My
turned to a shawl
the way seasons inevitably
change
Hearts litter the room as
the house of cards fall,
the king and queen of the pack
face up to the ceiling -
they are trapped;
pick up the diamonds, darling--
[never mind the jack]
I woke up to lightning's
metallic scent,
she laid there: spent
and I pressed my finger
to her lips
as a nice gesture.
I leaned in, closer,
whispered sweet
nothingness into her ear
[fleeting fingers
through hair],
then I started screeching:
her silence is just too beautiful to bear.
Literature
intimate thunder
in this microcosmic
corner I have stolen
your alcohol & I am
missing the color
you made the world turn
Literature
we shouldn't be so afraid of death
i waited for death to wrap his
frail hands around my neck and
feed me to the unknown
but he just took my hand, fingers
laced between my own
and smiled
Literature
how to tell me my scars are beautiful.
leave roses with thorns on my stairwell, the kind
that would entice me when i was fourteen but now
serve as silent irritation—when we eat steak, use
your thinnest, sharpest knife to cleave the meat
into tiny squares and let me watch you wash it
and put it away when you’re done—open your
packages with your trusty pocket knife, peter
pan boy scout, and when i move in, let me
borrow it; don’t question the t-shirts i order
in winter and the sweatshirts i order during the
sweltering heat of summer—when i lay beside you
at night and talk about the state of the universe
that day, nibble on my ear, scratch my arm, sl
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Try reading it normally, and then try reading each column separately.
**stupid typo has been fixed
**stupid typo has been fixed
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Comments85
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Stunning! I mean that literally -- at the end I found myself staring at the screen for a moment, stunned by the impact of that ending. Another incredible piece of poetry! You are a remarkable talent! 