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Literature Text
memories blurred
my nails painted black
throat’s a touch hoarse
hearing just out of tune
no voices in my head, what am i supposed to do
what am i supposed to feel
those days i thought so golden
so far from reach, even on tiptoe
even on tiptoe
my nails painted black
throat’s a touch hoarse
hearing just out of tune
no voices in my head, what am i supposed to do
what am i supposed to feel
those days i thought so golden
so far from reach, even on tiptoe
even on tiptoe
Literature
imsorryican'tstoptellingyouhowmuchiloveyou
i can keep telling you i love you every day
but every time i do, i feel like i'm simultaneously losing
pieces of my heart.
you brush it off
like i don't mean anything to you.
like i never meant anything to you.
i wonder if i'll ever mean something to you again.
you said you knew what you wanted but
i know whatever it is no longer includes me.
and i know myself; i'm weak when it comes to you so
even though i've been thinking lately about how i
wont be foolish enough to fall back
in love with you
not even all that deep down, i'm sure
that i will.
but i can't keep telling you i love you every day.
because every time i do, i'm losing mor
Literature
Home.
The night is pitch-black all around, save for the uncountable mass of stars winking benevolently at me from the tarp of deepest indigo that hangs overhead. Everything feels suspended in that momentthe stars, the crescent moon, the sparse, gray-black clouds, this little island called Earth, and even myself. It feels as if my feet don't even touch the ground.
I feel as if I'm falling into them, the stars. There are so many of them, filling my field of vision, that I am taken by a sudden bout of dizziness and fall back into the Earth's gentle embrace. In response she twirls me around playfully, pulling me into a slow-motion
Literature
Untitled
My girlfriend weighs about 250 lbs, and her doctor told her that she could never have a real loving relationship because nobody loves fat people. So I told her how I feel:
I felt sad for your doctor who told you those things and I just looked at your picture on my phone. I don't understand how anyone who sees the green of your eyes does not see beauty worth more than green fields or oceans. Why do people think that love only chooses bodies that belong on a postcard? If I could tell them that when I kiss you I feel like I am stealing from time, and I know I can not stop time, but when I see you I have a few more seconds than the rest of t
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The repetition of the last line is effective. I hope you yourself are not as grim a the poem!