indigo-child with your silver-threaded
bones, you are a girl that is more intangible
than our tangled heart-strings, a girl
made of summer breezes and daisy daydreams
and i swear i could’ve kissed you then.
gold-blooded girl, your hand whispers
against mine like autumn leave skittering down
city pavements, your eyes pool into mine
like inkblots onto plain parchment, i am stained
and i swear i could’ve kissed you then.
your absence aches like six more weeks
of winter, frost-bitten boys call me to bed with arctic
iris fingers, i thaw on your return, blooming
with crocus sighs, i grow under your springtime touch
and i swear i coul
Bottles Of Brown Glass by SophisticatedCleffa, literature
Literature
Bottles Of Brown Glass
The warning label reads as so:
“Warning, side effects may include 2AM breakdowns,
Questions about the higher powers, and
Inconsolable love of misery”.
You drink it anyway,
The headache proves not to be worth it.
i promise it wasn't you by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
i promise it wasn't you
one:
that boy taught me that girls who speak up
are not fit for loving.
that bastard taught me that girls who say no
are not fit for loving;
it was my voice or my heart,
and i chose love.
(after all,
isn't that the greatest thing?)
two.
when the pain weighted my
body to the floor,
when the carpet covered me with dust
and claimed my bones,
my friends called me lazy.
"where are your wounds?"
i cupped my glued-up heart in my hands.
they rolled their eyes
and turned away,
asked me why i'd turn myself
into some craft project
for a hopeless, wandering boy
and night after night i cried
"i don't know, i don't know,
i don't know."
three:
she doesn't see him.
a lone wolf girl,
with jagged shards of moonlight in her eyes,
she's pieced together with frozen
inhales-
and him, he has a black/hole/heart.
he can already see her fade
away from him,
without even a touch,
into the harsh winter wind
bared shoulders, snow skin
a fearless storm of a goddess-
"No," she said, still looking up at the sky. "i am brave because i am afraid."
We are webs
of tissue paper
skin (string)
woven into
bones and marrow,
blood and veins,
over a breakable,
white skeleton
(all you are
is flesh)
we break easily and
heal so hard
(all we are is human.)
if alice in wonderland was set in 2012, by ohsostarryeyed, literature
Literature
if alice in wonderland was set in 2012,
i might cut my hair if it didn't remind me of you,
but just like the fade from september into the pits of october,
i fall.
down
the
rabbit
hole.
i'm not alice, this isn't wonderland, but i am just as surrounded by things that yell,
"eat me! drink me!" and they don't say it but i know they'll all make me bigger,
sadder, fatter, too big to fit into a house, my arms my legs come shooting out,
everything i feel is just too loud-
look.
i should be better than i am.
i should be taking the world by the shoulders, shaking back its shoulders because i am a storm, i am a force of nature and you will take notice-
but my winds are quiet
I put off writing this letter
because I was either afraid
acknowledging you
or was too choked up and mad
that you were now
a part of me.
And for a time you were just
writing material,
something I forced on paper
when inspiration didn’t hit
or decided for a hit-and-run.
You were more and less of this false friend
depending on the strength I had
to deal with you.
You rained more than cumulonimbus clouds
and seeped the earth more than
the sun herself,
that you
barely
left
dust.
So sorry for the long wait,
bu
Christmas Starts in November by muscularteeth, literature
Literature
Christmas Starts in November
What struck me most
about the wonder I saw
on this little boy's face,
his head tipped back as I
walked past, his shiny eyes
full of colorful lights strung
below his pretty eyelashes,
was that I could remember
feeling something like that,
and I wonder where
it's went.
You know what I miss?
The simple days
of aimless buses and trains,
like magic carpets
that helped us to escape,
if only for a little while.
I miss the endless walks
that led to hours of
strip mall shenanigans--
spinning in desk chairs,
petting that little blind kitten,
and reading anything
from cheesy joke books
to Frost's melancholic verse.
I miss cheap deli lunches,
discounted coffee house milkshakes, and
midnight conversations on the swings
at your old elementary school,
with the moon so bright that
I could see your T-shirt.
Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,
we followed the sound
of live fiesta music
sailing on the hollow