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Literature Text
I don't write about love
and happily ever afters
because misery is my mistress
and pain my paramour.
No starry eyes
plucked from the heavens
to tempt me with
Eden's forbidden fruits and
Eve's forgotten secrets.
There are no mysteries
hidden under your skirt
like ribbon tied gifts
to lure my lust and
douse my mind
in impious flames.
The key to my heart
held in my own hands
like an iron vice
that won't be melted
by your imitation love
only pried, from
my cold, dead fingers.
I don't write about love
and happily ever afters
because I can only poison love
and murder the fairytale ending.
and happily ever afters
because misery is my mistress
and pain my paramour.
No starry eyes
plucked from the heavens
to tempt me with
Eden's forbidden fruits and
Eve's forgotten secrets.
There are no mysteries
hidden under your skirt
like ribbon tied gifts
to lure my lust and
douse my mind
in impious flames.
The key to my heart
held in my own hands
like an iron vice
that won't be melted
by your imitation love
only pried, from
my cold, dead fingers.
I don't write about love
and happily ever afters
because I can only poison love
and murder the fairytale ending.
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Literature
Fairytales
She's writing love poems up her arm in permanent
black ink and doodling hearts in her binder.
She's spewing out nonsense around him, talking
about everything but the things she really wants
to say.
She's wearing her heart on her sleeve, basically
screaming I love you to him every time they talk
but his eyes are closed and he's as oblivious as ever.
She's seeking his attention but he barely notices
her. The attention he gives is short and sweet but
feels like lemon juice on her open wounds. She's
looking for a band aid, searching and hoping for
something to take away the pain but the solution
is just out of her reach.
Sh
Literature
A fairy tale without lies
When I used to think of you,
I'd look at that picture of you with that fairy tale smile,
The puffiness underneath your eyes,
A smoldering feature beneath the longing pain coloring the background of my mind.
So my first impression of you was maybe a bit off,
As are my denials,
Of our heart connection,
And that maybe someday I will find you the one to see in love.
People talk about all the things in life to go back to.
I only think of you to hold on to.
And every touch of your love sends warmth in a way,
Where I could almost smell a fairy tale without lies.
Literature
Momentary Death
Each time our gazes meet
my rhythm skips,
and with each missed heartbeat
my sight's eclipsed.
For with each word divine
I catch my breath,
each time your eyes meet mine:
a little death.
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I wonder if my writing is depressing enough to warrant a mental health warning yet?
I really need to try writing something... happy?... maybe just something a bit... brighter...
I really need to try writing something... happy?... maybe just something a bit... brighter...
Comments68
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I can relate to this.. which is sad, but refreshing and lovely to read it laid out in such a beautiful way.