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Literature Text
living girl, do not
build an armory out of
incisors & fractured femurs
do not seek
to fit this throne of bones; do not
shrink into the framework of this citadel
feral girl, feral heart,
we can scoff at those who want to live forever
(immortality is fickle)
but we
are more than
lost baby-teeth
& we
have words to give
yet
Literature
I Didn't Know
I didn't know what to say
So I said nothing
As it turns out
That was the worst thing I could have said
Literature
for my sunday
raison d'être. i like to think i was yours.
i like to think we knew each other in all of our past lives
and that we were always this way, always
ghosting
over each other, you leave gifts for me to find
as i come tripping
down
this road after you
and i reassure you in dropped forehead kisses and
affection, absentminded like
fingers in hair
i like to think we wouldn't have needed this olive branch
or the way we love that we call "poetry"
to have found each other in this world of ours, you are
worlds away
and only
words away
and i hope you know
i will
Literature
your poem
you tell me on a thursday that you can’t find
the god inside of yourself anymore, that
you think that you are finally
too much honeycomb and not enough human
because lately everything has been slipping
through your fingers, and you don’t know how you can
keep holding yourself together anymore.
if today is the day that you look
at the stars and you no longer
feel their burn beneath your bones,
i will show you the blanket i tried to make
when i was eight, and i will tell you all i know
about the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,
but i do know the basics,
and that’s that everything in the universe
is composed
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so much of this is concentrated in metaphor but it all works nicely together. lovely