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Literature Text
I was wishing
I was kissing you
and wishing
you were wishing,
too
and missing
this little thing
you do
and singing
songs that make
me think of you
I was kissing you
and wishing
you were wishing,
too
and missing
this little thing
you do
and singing
songs that make
me think of you
Literature
You, Me, and the Fireflies
There's a stable that holds consistency and horses
and men who don't know the difference.
There are fireflies- nature's dusk, flashlights,
and men who put them in jars.
Like how they think every person is a star.
We are not stars. We are people.
Do not mistake us for being brighter than we are.
Don't put light on our faces and say "look how bright she shines!"
Shining does not make a creature divine.
We are made in the image of who?
So why do we personify the things we are not.
Stars get names.
Babies get names.
Take the sky for what she is, and she will take you for what you are.
How would the world be if winter storms said,
"
Literature
Floccinaucinihilipilification:
for the record, i
lusted you
only for the
contents of your pants, not the
contents of your heart.
i realise this
now, of course,
and realised how
useless the
contents of either are, when
i'm nowhere near them,
nowhere near you.
i have no use for you
have no use for me.
i see no point in
lusting after a ghost;
i see no point in
picking dead flowers;
i see no point in
flying on a broken plane;
i see no point in
calling you without your number.
and what hurts the most is
that i wasted nine months on you.
i might as well have been pregnant,
or pregnant with a three-season disease
named after the first words you spoke
:
Literature
binary
I am so bewildered.
I write about this often, how I am
stuck between the fingernails of
zeros and ones,
and how the eulogies go
dim and gray when you want them to,
how the only death I can really mourn
is my own.
I want to find a frequency between
rows of numbers and your breath,
a rhythm in the product of a phosphorescent gasp
or how I once found vibrancy in a painting of
water lilies.
They change as you walk back and forth,
someone once explained to me.
the focus shifts.
far away, an elegant scene is painted in
reflections on water.
but when you get close, it is all brush-strokes and
turbulence and the dissonant symphony
Suggested Collections
and being
with
you is like seeing
with new eyes and
reading the sound
of
your name
for the first time
with
you is like seeing
with new eyes and
reading the sound
of
your name
for the first time
© 2011 - 2024 Beaple
Comments29
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Beautiful flow.