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Literature Text
i trusted you with my porcelain collarbones
and you laid the shards you shattered
across the freezing floor,
in an attempt to put me back together.
but you know, you know,
that masking the once-beautiful parts of me
with rushed and careless taping
won't make me any less broken.
and you laid the shards you shattered
across the freezing floor,
in an attempt to put me back together.
but you know, you know,
that masking the once-beautiful parts of me
with rushed and careless taping
won't make me any less broken.
Literature
Evanescent
only the most
beautiful of creatures
live the shortest.
red roses and quivering
butterflies and other
useless things, like the
way she wishes on every star
she sees for a different
soul because she can't stand
the way it's rotting inside.
and it's only when
the thorns beneath her skin
start to bleed that her
monsters whisper, "have
you ever trembled, my dear?"
because they know
for every whimper that hides
faintly in the dark,
there is a pair of lips stretched
into a smile pretending
that all that is beautiful
is timeless and unbroken.
Literature
succubus
Nemesis likes to play fair,
and I respect her for that.
if I stab out your eye,
you're welcome to stab out mine.
and when we chat about "equality,"
we sometimes work around the word,
taking quiet bites to miss the rotten spots.
no one understands until
they taste the grainy blackness
rubbing on the roof of their mouth.
no one understands
unless it happens to them.
so, when she speaks her mind,
she's a bitch,
and nobody loves a bitch.
the truth is,
nobody loves when their punching bag
learns to punch back;
suddenly the game isn't fun anymore.
and we're reduced to that one word,
"bitch,"
reduced to
that feminist with the words
men roll the
Literature
.
i.
to be perfectly honest,
i've got a rabbit's heart.
you know,
the kind that freezes
the moment it senses danger.
kind of like a january midnight where
all is still and the only thing you can taste
is the rawness of your uncovered
fingers.
and it aches
and aches
until your fists refuse
to loosen,
before finally it stops beating
and you're slowly dying
inside of yourself.
ii.
once upon a time
i fancied myself a she-wolf.
ivory fangs that bit down on
desperation,
silver eyes that could see
through hell itself,
and a blackness nestled peacefully
inside my chest,
sleeping all day and waking only
when the full moon rose.
but i have learn
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lovely