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Literature Text
it was
all too easy,
forgetting your name,
tasting the starlight tucked
behind someone else's
wisdom teeth ;
our soju-laced smiles
crashing at 90mph
and the memory of you
caught
in the headlights and
wreckage of us,
our 2am laughter
echoing in your bones
from 5654 miles away ;
my hands knowing
the age-old roads
that led to brand new places,
and the faded map of you
folded and kept hastily
in my back pocket.
(I was far too proud
to ask for directions
to come home)
all too easy,
forgetting your name,
tasting the starlight tucked
behind someone else's
wisdom teeth ;
our soju-laced smiles
crashing at 90mph
and the memory of you
caught
in the headlights and
wreckage of us,
our 2am laughter
echoing in your bones
from 5654 miles away ;
my hands knowing
the age-old roads
that led to brand new places,
and the faded map of you
folded and kept hastily
in my back pocket.
(I was far too proud
to ask for directions
to come home)
Literature
pandemonium
do you know that feeling
the one where everything just sort of
stops and you're left
alone in front of the mirror and it's not
the same person you woke up to
but instead they're just this delicate
porcelain statue will shatter with
one touch into more pieces than there are
stars in the sky and the scorpions scuttling
up your throat keep stinging and burning with a
fire that you can't swallow back down into the
storm that's churning at the very bottom of your
stomach and the wolf in your chest is howling
and threatening to gnaw its way through your bones before
it suffocates beneath the desert stretched across
every inch of your skin and your
Literature
Tender
It takes a touch
to light a fire,
a circling thumb
on the back of my hand,
leaving burn marks
instead of bruised love bites.
Literature
you are what you love
this girl dreams
far too much;
her bed has turned into
a nightmare graveyard,
full of wilted roses
and broken spines.
wanderlust is a toxin.
one that fills her lungs with each
breath and with every poisoned
heartbeat, she yearns for a world
with moons of gold and a silver sun.
yet—
she would rather listen
to those sweet nothings than have
the philosophy of reality
shoved down her throat.
this girl does not want
to live in black and white;
no, she craves color
and the freedom it tastes like and if
the chains that that shackle her
starving soul refuse to unlock,
she will tear them apart
with her own two hands.
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This took almost no effort to write, but when I was done, it felt like someone sucker-punched me in the heart.
I still can't breathe.
I still can't stop crying.
Fuck.
//written from his point of view, for clarity
I still can't breathe.
I still can't stop crying.
Fuck.
//written from his point of view, for clarity
© 2015 - 2024 neonsquiggle
Comments10
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Stunning. This is absolutely stunning. 