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Literature Text
they say that love is like an ocean and you can feel the waves
filling up your stomach, saltwater rolling against your nervous system.
they say that when you're in love and you curl your toes in pleasure
you can feel wet sand between them, warm against the skin.
but your love was like a desert.
our love left me parched, throat raw, the taste of grit in my mouth.
my stomach empty, growling for some sort of sustenance,
something you always refused to give me when i needed it most.
you told me you loved me, like a mirage floating amongst our heat.
if love is like an ocean then you were loneliness, i guess.
every saltwater tear you cried evaporated into thin air.
you were the Sahara and i was the Atlantic.
we collided every time we met.
filling up your stomach, saltwater rolling against your nervous system.
they say that when you're in love and you curl your toes in pleasure
you can feel wet sand between them, warm against the skin.
but your love was like a desert.
our love left me parched, throat raw, the taste of grit in my mouth.
my stomach empty, growling for some sort of sustenance,
something you always refused to give me when i needed it most.
you told me you loved me, like a mirage floating amongst our heat.
if love is like an ocean then you were loneliness, i guess.
every saltwater tear you cried evaporated into thin air.
you were the Sahara and i was the Atlantic.
we collided every time we met.
Literature
butterflied
it is a snake
coiled in my stomach,
the urge to vomit
everything inside of me, to purge
all the toxic not-
good-enoughs. to retell
the same story and expect
a different ending is
the dysfunction that landed
us in here. I'm sorry
I don't follow you into
your dreams at night. I'm sorry
my smile is not the moon,
I'm sorry I did anything
to make you notice
me at all. no finger
down the throat could ever
take that
away.
Literature
all we ever do is decay
I.
nobody falls in love with saturn,
but everyone, her rings.
II.
this disjointed skull is a smirking
mirror bending back reflections.
this disjointed skull is a sleep-smoker.
III.
you were a utopian seven lives ago,
but nobody lives in this body anymore.
Literature
your soul + my lungs.
i remember when we lived inside the
snow globe sitting in the toy store,
smiling and laughing because
every day was christmas, and when
things got shaky, it was okay;
white would swirl all around us,
setting moods for stories and all
the i love yous we could stand
until the day the toy store closed
and no one came to shake our home
we realized the snow was only
flecks of painted sand, and so we
sat in melancholic silence
until we noticed we'd be breathing
water our entire lives, and then we choked,
and then we died
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i cried a little when i wrote this.
and i guess i'm not exactly addressing one certain person here (maybe i am, shutup), but more on the fact that a lot of times i give so much love to get nothing in return. i always try to give 110% of myself to someone, everyone, and i just expect the same, and you can't do that.
and so, i don't know.
i just get tired of loving people.
and i guess i'm not exactly addressing one certain person here (maybe i am, shutup), but more on the fact that a lot of times i give so much love to get nothing in return. i always try to give 110% of myself to someone, everyone, and i just expect the same, and you can't do that.
and so, i don't know.
i just get tired of loving people.
© 2014 - 2024 A-Lovely-Anxiety
Comments22
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"we collided every time we met" is a very lovely sentence!