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Literature Text
i am awoken by a light tapping on my door and a kiss on my forehead. the stars still rest outside of my window; it is midnight and you are a hurricane. you have this stone wall around you; when we're entwined, i still feel canyons between us. when we're together, i feel we are apart. the cold air separates flesh and shows just how different we are.
you keep me 'til dawn, telling stories old and new. it is cold and my knees are to my chest, trying to fight off the chill. you pull the covers over my body, and somehow i feel even colder. the blankets are woolen, but not warm; the fibers scrape like daggers to my skin. i've never felt this fragile before. these bones are not mine - mine were stable. these never will be.
collisions of molecules and feelings and opinions send waves of uncertainty crashing to the shore. you tell me you love me, but you're sorry. i tell you i hate you, but i need you. i never was one to be drawn to the ocean, but the way the darkness sinks right to bottom leaves me wishing i could be that solid. maybe i could just try and become a part of it.
i remember the day i met you, the stars sparkled, and you gave me feelings that i no longer believe in. the first time i looked at you my heart stopped dead in its tracks, and honestly, i've been trying to resuscitate it ever since. you broke down these walls, so i built them up higher. i built them up so high that i was afraid to fall, because i am afraid of heights and, beautiful boy, who knew if you'd ever catch me.
i never liked how the stars were so far away. it reminded me that was so much that was simply out of my reach. i could stand tip-toed on the walls i'd built up so high, but never touch them.
your arms were far too weedy to ever catch me;
off bricks, into oceans, out of love.things
a collab with the ever wonderful =procrastinations
she is the best
and these things just flow
so so well with her (:
she is the best
and these things just flow
so so well with her (:
© 2011 - 2024 ohsparrowsong
Comments8
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I said it (more than) once, and I'll say it again: Beautiful work. <'3 Your writing, and others' just like yours, is like a creamy succulent dessert that you get in Paris and eat on the roof while watching the sun rise in the early morning right behind the Eiffel Tower. When God created writers, *this* is what He truly created. I am sorry if I seem a tad obsessive, but I have read too many beautiful works *just* like yours (glance in my favorites) and I don't feel like I have praised them enough. So tonight, you earned that praise. I need to go, for am I starting to cry crystal tears made with words. God bless you, ohsparrowsong. God bless you.
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