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Literature Text
somewhere along the lines
my heart got so deprived
that i fell in love with
every bit of affection
i could get my hands on
you were lovely
and i was lonely
and you fell in love with my voice
but not my mouth
fell in love with my words,
but not my palms.
and no matter
how hard i try
i don't know how to turn
my garden of a body
into flowers.
my heart got so deprived
that i fell in love with
every bit of affection
i could get my hands on
you were lovely
and i was lonely
and you fell in love with my voice
but not my mouth
fell in love with my words,
but not my palms.
and no matter
how hard i try
i don't know how to turn
my garden of a body
into flowers.
Literature
untitled
i keep plant seeds
under my bed in hopes
that one day my
limbs might grow into trees
and you can climb through
the branches in your sleep.
Literature
sleep
the boy with the kaleidoscope hands
offers me a revolver and we take turns
smothering plumes of breath and killing
lapselands.
bags of grieving skeletons hang from your
cliff eyes, dreading the moment
when they will have to fly.
Literature
maxilla-minded
i will spit out these
blue teeth to
waste
myself again,
say
"can't you tell he's just empty space" &
i see 206 in 20/20;
otherwise my whole head's blurry
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edited. this is too real right now.
it seems to keep happening to me.
it seems to keep happening to me.
© 2013 - 2024 brokenfragilethings
Comments27
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I feel like lots of people feel this, actually. People grasp desperately at love, whether or not they can truly return the other person's feelings.