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Literature Text
Waves crash through the emptiness that fills the air around
Beating rocks upon the shore with silence as their sound
Sunset melts across the sky and paints the clouds with color
Lying there beside you, something wondrous like no other
Suddenly, the blades start slicing through my very skin
Every knife upon your tongue that came from far within
Running through the thickest forest, dirt rests in my cuts
Throwing knives into my flesh, the blade coated in rust
And though you are the one that scarred me, brought me to my pain
I continue dreaming of our kiss inside the rain
Maybe you have broken me, and maybe you’re impure.
But your love is the best disease, and you’re the only cure.
Beating rocks upon the shore with silence as their sound
Sunset melts across the sky and paints the clouds with color
Lying there beside you, something wondrous like no other
Suddenly, the blades start slicing through my very skin
Every knife upon your tongue that came from far within
Running through the thickest forest, dirt rests in my cuts
Throwing knives into my flesh, the blade coated in rust
And though you are the one that scarred me, brought me to my pain
I continue dreaming of our kiss inside the rain
Maybe you have broken me, and maybe you’re impure.
But your love is the best disease, and you’re the only cure.
Literature
Mother Knows Best
There is too much smoke
residing in those noxious lungs of yours;
you've inhaled one too many
cigarettes.
How do tar-coated fangs taste
when all you do is howl at
waning, unstable moons?
Just like the she wolf
you wish you were;
but your cub,
she just wants to sing
to ink-wrought stars.
Literature
Forever Neverland
Grace disliked Tinkerbell. She disliked her because she had wings and she could fly whereas Grace stayed on the ground, catching fireflies. The fireflies, in turn, made it easy because they knew she would let them go. She would stare at their radiant light in awe and try to understand how something so little could shine so very bright.
She tried to pretend the bread she had in the mornings was ice cream flavoured, and even imagined her little brother had never been taken from them but had been enthralled and forever lost in Neverland. When she tried to explain this to her mother, her mother would look away quietly, and sometimes, rise with a
Literature
Scarification
blood oranges are
beautiful.
we can
slice them open
without a moment’s
thought, -
their crimson juices
licked from our lips
like ichor.
& that is what
i want to be. -
scarred fruit,
still savoring
the promises
i sucked from
your mouth -
to wear
like staples
along my spine.
- i was cut open
once.
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I don't know. But I'm in the mood to write, so writing shall happen heheheh. :3
© 2013 - 2024 MikkiMarie
Comments27
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*sobs* That's so...... Sad. I guess. I dunno. The imagery is there, definitely. You've given me some inspiration.