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Literature Text
A mere vessel, my soul is gone / I am unknown to myself and have / decided to stop looking for / where I left my mind / Memory, I’ve accepted you to be a memory / And you don’t need to come back / I’m willing to go until the end.
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
coda
under tangerine skies,
you pulse and I
fall short
seeking diamonds
from the whites in your eyes
and finding sacred
how your back talks to me.
you drop your bits of nowhere
for me to scavenge,
never rash enough to hunt
but I think I'm done
whetting the leftovers
of your summer -
I think
my leaves look fine
without your color.
Literature
Consumed
She was a mismatch
of auras,
the colors of
burnt summers
and wool-weave
winters,
freely
giving herself
to the world.
Her paths threaded
upon ruins,
of the abandoned,
the tattooed broken,
the vacant lost eyes.
She unraveled
her soul
with those who
devoured her
at night,
cutting out pieces,
against will,
to immortalize
power,
never love.
Those pieces
she gathered
into herself,
mending
their jagged ends,
burying down
the hurt.
So to re-emerge
onto the world,
a newborn
of distort,
ready,
yet again
to be consumed.
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After (quite) a long hiatus, I'm finally back on dA! As a way to commemorate my "summer" break, here's a short poem I made last April 16 c:
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