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Literature Text
'you make me feel as though my freckles light up in the darkness outside.
when it's just us playing tag in our old people neighborhood.
and there's that moment where i can't make out your facial features.
but your eyes- your eyes are wide and the light from the moon makes them look more watery than they really are.
they stare at me and i can feel your panting breath.
it's warm and smells like the mint gum i gave you a few hours ago.
you make me think of shooting stars, you tell me.
why's that, i ask.
you're like a streak of light that blinks through the darkness.
and if i'm not watching, i'll miss it.
you say it as if it was just that simple.
that i was from outer space and that i was burning like a fiery light.
are you saying that i'm faster than you, i ask, knowing what you mean but trying to get you to stop being so handsome when you're serious.
i mean that i want to catch you.
don't you mean make a wish--?
no.
my wish is to catch you.
to make you mine and for you to make me yours.
and then i'm kissing you.
you taste so familiar and when i'm done, i'm chewing your gum.
i can't help but wrap my arms around you and laugh.'
when it's just us playing tag in our old people neighborhood.
and there's that moment where i can't make out your facial features.
but your eyes- your eyes are wide and the light from the moon makes them look more watery than they really are.
they stare at me and i can feel your panting breath.
it's warm and smells like the mint gum i gave you a few hours ago.
you make me think of shooting stars, you tell me.
why's that, i ask.
you're like a streak of light that blinks through the darkness.
and if i'm not watching, i'll miss it.
you say it as if it was just that simple.
that i was from outer space and that i was burning like a fiery light.
are you saying that i'm faster than you, i ask, knowing what you mean but trying to get you to stop being so handsome when you're serious.
i mean that i want to catch you.
don't you mean make a wish--?
no.
my wish is to catch you.
to make you mine and for you to make me yours.
and then i'm kissing you.
you taste so familiar and when i'm done, i'm chewing your gum.
i can't help but wrap my arms around you and laugh.'
Literature
my five year plan
day one
at least once a day, I mistake a boy for a girl. the truth could take five years to write, and I think it probably will. at least once a month, you mistake my "i'm okay"s for "okay, I'm not doing so good"s. this is a matching test. this is a matching test without a word bank. this is sucks-to-be-you-because-you-didn't-study-you-spent-your-night-being-a-manwhore-again. let me know if you're really satisfied with fractions of many girls as opposed to the entirety of me that I'm offering to you.
month three, week two
I'm unsatisfied with my eyebrow arches, my jaw line, my cheekbones, and having someone care so much one minute and comp
Literature
this probably isn't about you
this probably is about how the sun was on the opposite side of the sky when i woke up this morning. and how my name looks wrong every time i write it until it's gotten to the point that i'm not even sure how to spell it. it's about how everything has been flying out of my control so that i can't remember how to walk without making a sound. or how to hold on to the edges when my vision gets too blurry. this is almost certainly about how you live one and three fourth miles to the north of me, but i forgot and slept facing the south last night so now i just feel like i turned my back on you.
but really, this isn't about you.
it's about how i'v
Literature
i stayed home monday
i stayed home monday because i wanted to cry and write broken poetry of how my ribs are no fortress composed of marrow but shards of memories cross-stitched to spine.
i decided sometime by mid-morning all i wanted was for you to encircle me and whisper gentle words across my shoulder that would dip around my lower-back and find home in my chest.
i envisioned cardiac surgeons tangling their hands in my thoracic cavity and struggling to find my heart, but only coming back to an empty waiting room with scattered slips of paper detailing a midnight heist.
as i mouthed words scratched into a bathroom stall, i hoped each consonant would tumble f
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young love.
more love.
your love.
my love.
our love we love to love.
scrap?
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more love.
your love.
my love.
our love we love to love.
scrap?
another whim write.
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Comments12
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haha no surprise, but feature here- [link]