he held onto her with
a grip as tight as her smile
he peers down to a pair of glossy and jaded green eyes
that once mimicked the colors of spring
& he begs the rain
to let those eyes bloom again
while i sit in my crumpled shirt,
naked legs and bleached underwear
i ponder about silence and solitude
along with the brotherhood they share
they were the flat lines in heart monitors,
the shooting stars that happen behind your back
the budding flowers and sleeping children
the world that happens while you sleep
and like the ticking of the clock
they bear a loneliness
that was either too loud or unnoticed
.
one. her femurs smile like they want to be murdered. she says hunger looks good on her, makes her pretty while her bones grow claustrophobic. she says hunger is a weapon, take it or leave it. someone takes the first sword and carves a little more off her thighs, making them skinnier, happier, desperate.
two. two birds fall from the sky. this is a lie. they were unlucky enough to seek freedom, and it choked them by the necks. this is also a lie. a dog caught them. they're limp together in a plastic bag; they seem to be sleeping, except for the streak of blood on the mouth of the first. their wings are broken. someone takes the second sword
all the (k)nots and nevers by drowsydoe, literature
Literature
all the (k)nots and nevers
if i desperately tried i do not think i could ever properly write about another human i can barely write about a dog. because i am a very bad very introspective and very self-centered poet all i can ever seem to be on about is myself please feel free to laugh at all this irony. i can
not write about people and the varying depths of love i have for each particular one does not determine whether or not i can write about them i simply can not and i believe it is because i am selfish and also because i see people like i see very obscure emotions or very forbidden colors that only butterflies should witness: i can not describe them to you. i can n
ths dosnt matter but i d ont feels good oh well, by drowsydoe, literature
Literature
ths dosnt matter but i d ont feels good oh well,
when he goes to bed after hours of barely talking are you sure that you still feel good when he says i love you once all that paranoia has sunken in and your on your knees in front of yourself again wishing for god sake that he was fucking here when you needed him and not across an ocean sound asleep because the last thing you want to do is leave another suspiciously poorly written text with a suspiciously submissive tone hoping he'll care enough to ask you if youre okay in the morning you've done that too many times he's probably sick of it and youre sick of it too but thats as close as you can get to having him hold you while youre bawling
i love you, hallie. i hope you had a good day by drowsydoe, literature
Literature
i love you, hallie. i hope you had a good day
i'm sorry i realized too late how to appreciate you and love you.
i'm sorry i only just started switching out your water each morning a few weeks ago and giving you two treats instead of one at breakfast.
my heart hurt when you couldn't get up the stairs any more and it hurt even harder today when you couldn't even stand up and it hurt so bad when i was trying to hug you and you didn't even know that we'd have to put you to sleep tomorrow it hurts so much sweetie and i love you so much and i wish you knew that i hope you knew that i hope you knew that we loved you so fucking much and that Bella loved you so fucking much it hurts so bad that
to her lover, please read this when she messes up. by drowsydoe, literature
Literature
to her lover, please read this when she messes up.
she is very sorry.
i can tell you for a fact that she means it.
she has always meant it.
she let the monsters in again when they told her
they were her friends (she really needs more of those).
she didn't mean to let them scare her, but they did
and she started thinking funny in that way she
knows you dont like. the way where she over thinks and
the only person she knows to turn to is you and she's already said
what she's about to say a million times before, and it scares
her that there are monsters and it scares her that she
might only be doing this for attention and it scares her
that you are probably sick of having this conversation wi
a capillary opened and i trust it
some sort of red thread back where?
tightrope walking for beginners
and so i bring my words together
in this basket of eden
and so i fluff the feathers
a heathen
wonderland sprawled out across the ravine
the bone sheets tie-dyed in rainbow splatter
tale of struggle ceasing
as told by tendon or tooth
this fabric is the stuff lifetimes are made of
long, potent glue
the hours droned on
filled the bogs and the empties
to never wake me
my friends