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Literature Text
Someone will come along
In a full suit of armor
Though dingy rusted and hewn
He will chip away at that wall
So newly constructed
Of pain-layered brick
And mortar of despair
Pelted by elements
Sundered by fatigue
With trembling resolve
His strength somehow pulls through
With tempered steps
And a gentle outreach of arm
He will reach you at last
Where his lips meet those tears
Butterflies form and take flight
This sunken prison
Crumbles at long last
Both will come to know
How sun forms in a smile
And clouds under foot
Love will be learned once more
In a full suit of armor
Though dingy rusted and hewn
He will chip away at that wall
So newly constructed
Of pain-layered brick
And mortar of despair
Pelted by elements
Sundered by fatigue
With trembling resolve
His strength somehow pulls through
With tempered steps
And a gentle outreach of arm
He will reach you at last
Where his lips meet those tears
Butterflies form and take flight
This sunken prison
Crumbles at long last
Both will come to know
How sun forms in a smile
And clouds under foot
Love will be learned once more
Literature
A Memory
She thought to herself, I am 19. Kill me.
She stared down at her hands in thought, eyes pressed towards the horizon. It was like time had never passed, yesterday so vivid in her mind. The screaming, the cries of outrage from her mother so...
Stop it, she thought. This kind of thinking will not get you anywhere. She didn't want to force herself to remember the past. She turned her head skyward and focused on the breeze in the clouds, sending fluff scattering across the blue. How beautiful, she thought. The sky seems unaffected by my turmoil. I love it. If only the rest of the world could be as beautiful, perhaps it would be easier. It would
Literature
What we used to have
Those eyes, those attractive features...for two years he had haunted me wherever I went, and now he was standing before me – alive and well. Five long years, and yet those five years had barely touched his outer appearance. He reminded me still of the youth I met back then, when we could have been something called friends, instead of strangers with some memories. While not scrutinising him, I did take my time taking in what I recognised and what five years had changed in the one who mustered me as well. He was still pale, under his eyes the signs of his insomnia could be seen even after all this time. The biggest change was his snakebite piercings. A wry smile, and I then wiped sudden tears aside, the moment I noticed the one feature that caught my eye five years prior. “Still liking the emo-style I see.” A pale smile, and he then shook his head – the fringe of his dark hair fell further into his eyes and his fingers then tugged at some of the strands, a bit self-conscious it
Literature
Love The Way I Like It
It’s 3 am. 15 February and I am still waiting for him to come. Sitting in the veranda, sipping my watery cafe au lait. I don’t know how many ice cubes I’ve added to raise the water level. The sky’s dark and the wind’s cold, a typical rain season nights. The ground is moist and so is my eyes.
He’s not gonna come again.
I keep telling myself, but I just can’t stand the feeling. What if he comes when I am sleeping inside and he’s locked outside? I can already see him standing in front of my room, a bucket of flower he holds close to his chest ever so gently, his suit well pressed, his hair style
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A spontaneous poem as a response to the lovely fiddlesandfox poem Toxins and Tumbles.
In this instance, she was a muse.
In this instance, she was a muse.
© 2016 - 2024 Empty-Infinity
Comments1
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This is so lovely