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Literature Text
How am I supposed to move on when you're getting in the way?
- - - - -
Step aside, please
Let me through
I can push you away
I can try
But please won't you listen?
Because I'm dying here
and you're of no help
Gasping for air,
I need space
And all your giving me
Is your embrace
I know you mean no harm
These chains are
Not yours
No,
They're mine
So why can't you
Simply
Let go
Let me go?
I don't want to burden you
Can't bear the sight
Of your furrowed eyebrows and
Quizzical irises
Your vise-like grip
That says so much more
Than your composed
Stance
Listen, will you?
I'm trying to save you
And by the way things are
Looking,
I'm trying
To save you from me
Because as they say
Crash and burn
My skin is already breaking
And my memories are fraying
Any more and
- - - - -
Step aside, please
Let me through
I can push you away
I can try
But please won't you listen?
Because I'm dying here
and you're of no help
Gasping for air,
I need space
And all your giving me
Is your embrace
I know you mean no harm
These chains are
Not yours
No,
They're mine
So why can't you
Simply
Let go
Let me go?
I don't want to burden you
Can't bear the sight
Of your furrowed eyebrows and
Quizzical irises
Your vise-like grip
That says so much more
Than your composed
Stance
Listen, will you?
I'm trying to save you
And by the way things are
Looking,
I'm trying
To save you from me
Because as they say
Crash and burn
My skin is already breaking
And my memories are fraying
Any more and
I'll take you
with me
- - - - -
How am I supposed to live when you're dying for me?
with me
- - - - -
How am I supposed to live when you're dying for me?
Literature
grow
To the dandelion,
In this part of the world,
the heart of July is frigid.
Frost renders the clay-earth firm as concrete
while gusts from the snowies
raze any hope of warmth.
Things do not thrive here,
yet this is where fate cast your seed
and you, unwillingly, grew your roots,
and became mangled
by what should have nurtured.
But spoiler alert:
survival is no pretty thing.
You are no spring tulip,
no summer orchid,
no autumn rose.
Though it shames you now,
the day will come
where you are proud
of having grown
out of a crack in pavement.
Literature
the greatest poem
The greatest poem I’ve never read is lying in a notebook somewhere, probably in Bangladesh, written in a language I can’t speak by a person I will never hear. I’ve never seen it nor heard of it because this person doesn’t know what they have and no one knows to dig where a mosaic is laid. And in the silent space that poem leaves I tremble. I ache, like an untouched woman. The greatest poem I’ve never written is lying in my heart right now, it's gatekeepers grief and shame. It’s there because of emotions I can’t give names for fear of unlocking too much and it all flowing out like a broken dam. You have never seen flood; you have not known storm. And in the silent space that poem leaves I cry. I bleed, from my fingers and from my palms. The greatest poem that never was must be in a dead man’s heart, or a woman’s, and I think of hiring grave robbers and a necromancer but the past is a torn sheet that can’t keep us warm. Although, some things can mend. I think I could revive this
Literature
january
“did you know,”
she asks, sitting
beside me on the
sofa. the room is
sweltering, thick
like an ocean made
of air. a sea our
eyes can’t
see. summer
makes me feel like i
am breathing underwater,
like i'm suspended in
a world where hard hits
close in on me in gentle
waves, like i’m constantly
tumbling but i'll wash
up somewhere, eventually.
i do know. i don’t know
it yet, but this time
i'm landing with two feet
when the tide comes in.
(“did you know that today
was his birthday?”)
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Comments1
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Oh, I mean harm dear. You got it backwards. I'm taking you down with me