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Literature Text
To say
that rebuilding trust is difficult
would be an understatement of the highest order.
It's a lot like relearning how to walk.
With each small step,
I keep thinking I'll fall--
and I may--
but I haven't yet.
My heart and left leg
throb in protest,
but there's a certain joy in progress
that keeps me moving forward.
that rebuilding trust is difficult
would be an understatement of the highest order.
It's a lot like relearning how to walk.
With each small step,
I keep thinking I'll fall--
and I may--
but I haven't yet.
My heart and left leg
throb in protest,
but there's a certain joy in progress
that keeps me moving forward.
Literature
2. You
I have fallen in love with a poem
the red roses blooming over your
knees, the blue violets threading
and coursing through your veins
I have fallen in love with the haiku
of your fingertips tapping syllables
down my vertebrae five, seven, five
I have pressed my heart like a bookmark
between the curled pages of your body,
free-verse freckles scattered across the
line-break nestled in the gorge between
your clavicle protrusions, stanzas faintly
whistling in the gaps amidst your shaped
ivory teeth, two eyes rhyming with mine;
I have memorised the stream of consciousness
murmured into my mouth as we kiss, as you
whisper spoken word lulla
Literature
one
we will become silhouettes
slowly, first,
like candle wax melting:
you lose the colour in your memories.
my sunflower rainboots
become dust,
stuck in my hair, dust.
the room lies in silence.
behind my ears, i kept a bit of melancholy
but i lost it yesterday.
the winds smoothed out that edge
to your smile that was like the beard of a key,
fitting just right.
we were solid ground.
"forever". now,
the room lies in silence.
we were warm skin, once.
tomorrow, as the day comes up,
we will be left as merely silhouettes.
half-forgotten
Literature
proprioception
she claims
that you can spot virginity in the curve
of the hips.
i tell her
you can't see chastity in the way
the ilium crests, unless you fucked hard enough
to break it.
she smiles,
shows me the bruises carved into her bones,
traces the way his fingers held her-
what if you're already broken
to begin with?
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Written September 12, 2014. Started this a little under a week ago and had to take a break from it. Been focusing on prose and therapy this week, so that's why I've been a bit quiet around here.
© 2014 - 2024 hopeburnsblue
Comments29
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I'm going through rehab and this explains it so well. I love this SO much! Perfect and wonderful.