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Literature Text
Look, this isn't what you were expecting,
What you wanted, what you asked me for.
This isn't about you and me and us and we,
Or about how I simply couldn't survive
Without you in my life (because I have
All these years before), or how I couldn't
Breathe without you near (once again, I've
Done just fine thus far).
There are no cliches to be had,
I admit. There is no symbolism,
Dying roses paradoxically representing
Our undying love, or archetypes in which you,
The knight in lackluster armour, save this damsel
Who is quite distressed by your quixotic notions.
This isn't filled with secret strolls under the
Milky moonlight, dancing under the stars, and
Showing each other our scars to bring us closer.
This paper will not be scented with my perfume
Or your indefinable scent, nor will it be stained
With bitter tears to the point where it's almost
Illegible- in a romantic sort of way, of course.
It isn't about how I spend my nights looking
For you where you can't be found,
Renaming every star after you, choking
On the letters of your name
And feeling I'll never be the same.
But there is a promise. A promise to love you,
Just maybe not in the way you meant
When you asked me to write you a love poem,
And maybe not forever, because even
Forever will end eventually.
Not unconditionally, but for all the right reasons.
There is reason, and there is hope, and there is
A small kernel of truth that will make us love
Each other more than any starry-eyed platitude ever could.
What you wanted, what you asked me for.
This isn't about you and me and us and we,
Or about how I simply couldn't survive
Without you in my life (because I have
All these years before), or how I couldn't
Breathe without you near (once again, I've
Done just fine thus far).
There are no cliches to be had,
I admit. There is no symbolism,
Dying roses paradoxically representing
Our undying love, or archetypes in which you,
The knight in lackluster armour, save this damsel
Who is quite distressed by your quixotic notions.
This isn't filled with secret strolls under the
Milky moonlight, dancing under the stars, and
Showing each other our scars to bring us closer.
This paper will not be scented with my perfume
Or your indefinable scent, nor will it be stained
With bitter tears to the point where it's almost
Illegible- in a romantic sort of way, of course.
It isn't about how I spend my nights looking
For you where you can't be found,
Renaming every star after you, choking
On the letters of your name
And feeling I'll never be the same.
But there is a promise. A promise to love you,
Just maybe not in the way you meant
When you asked me to write you a love poem,
And maybe not forever, because even
Forever will end eventually.
Not unconditionally, but for all the right reasons.
There is reason, and there is hope, and there is
A small kernel of truth that will make us love
Each other more than any starry-eyed platitude ever could.
Literature
Inexorable
Consumed by sin.
Devoured by t i m e.
Literature
Taste of Freedom
drunk, i was
airborne...Free on [scis
sored] frail legs.
Literature
Psalm for the South
Momma gave me a quilt when I left home
so I could lie me down in green pastures,
jus' like her black book says.
I learned to read
in a town where the churches got porches
jus' like everybody else.
Taught myself astronomy
with cogon grass ticklin my bare legs an'feet
an'ticks on the backsa my knees.
I couldn'a shown you
the long necklace a' stars
people say is a dragon,
but I could hunt down rabbits n'hazelnuts
on their way to Heaven.
Since I left
I seen long plains a' steel buildins
that crowd out the sky
an'shine their own stars.
Grandaddy Solomon still sings to me in my sleep
in Grandma's ole wicker rockin chair,
still r
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Yup, who doesn't love a semi-pessimistic love poem? Probably everyone. But it's who I am
Sorry for the wonky line breaks. I wrote it in prose form first, as I often do when I first get an idea for a poem, and then I just broke it up into vaguely symmetrical lines and stanzas at whim. Please, tell me if it seems odd or the flow is interrupted anywhere
As usual, comments, suggestions, and critiques are vastly welcome, encouraged and appreciated!
UPDATE: I got a Daily Lit Deviation! Thank you *so* much to everyone who read, commented, and favorited, to - a fantastic writer- for featuring it, and to , another great writer who has been extremely kind and helpful to me since I joined, for suggesting it. You'd probably be better off reading their stuff, in fact, instead of my rambling description
Sorry for the wonky line breaks. I wrote it in prose form first, as I often do when I first get an idea for a poem, and then I just broke it up into vaguely symmetrical lines and stanzas at whim. Please, tell me if it seems odd or the flow is interrupted anywhere
As usual, comments, suggestions, and critiques are vastly welcome, encouraged and appreciated!
UPDATE: I got a Daily Lit Deviation! Thank you *so* much to everyone who read, commented, and favorited, to - a fantastic writer- for featuring it, and to , another great writer who has been extremely kind and helpful to me since I joined, for suggesting it. You'd probably be better off reading their stuff, in fact, instead of my rambling description
© 2011 - 2024 ValentinaScreama
Comments19
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Aw damn this hit me like a train. To me it was my muse and the oh so many feelings that go with. Fragile and practical and magical and beautiful