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Literature Text
lover has more friends than i do,
which isn't hard as all those i have are
stretched across oceans and their
power is washed and watered down
chipped at from salt spray
or the winds
and i think for the what i wish
was the first time that this wound
of mine is a curse
it aches and it holds and it
creates mountains and peaks
in body and mind
that i can't soothe
that i can't control.
his manliness is more stable
than my womanhood.
he can eject
or reject or hold oceans within thicker skin
than i have on any part of me.
i break and split
and bleed.
oh god do i bleed.
which isn't hard as all those i have are
stretched across oceans and their
power is washed and watered down
chipped at from salt spray
or the winds
and i think for the what i wish
was the first time that this wound
of mine is a curse
it aches and it holds and it
creates mountains and peaks
in body and mind
that i can't soothe
that i can't control.
his manliness is more stable
than my womanhood.
he can eject
or reject or hold oceans within thicker skin
than i have on any part of me.
i break and split
and bleed.
oh god do i bleed.
Literature
I Never Called Myself a Poet
Somewhere, out
past the
sky,
there''s a
mountain-
No, no
that's not
right.
Somewhere, out
hiding in the
stars,
the answers can
be found-
Nope.
Somewhere, lost
inside my
head,
there's a
way-
Not even.
Maybe,
one day
I'll
figure out
what I was
looking for
in
the first place.
Literature
thyroidal cartilage
i held a bird between my hands,
swallow's throat twitching in laryngeal spasms.
when i whispered gently,
lips millimeters from its ear,
'you are mine; there is nothing you can do'
it struggled, beak clicking like talon-fingernails on porcelain
i didn't mean to let it free, i swear.
it beat me back with a single shining look;
beaded gaze bruising, breaking capillaries and
bringing blood to the surface.
i would have gotten a black eye if i wasn't careful.
i wasn't.
careful, i mean. i was never careful.
with mirrored eyes i watched it fly,
wings beating in time to my heart.
my breath was a cloud of smoke,
droplets condensing
Literature
Collection of poetic nothings.
We were opal Tuesdays,
mosaic butterflies
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
-
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
-
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
-
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
heartstrings, spider
limbs traveling this road map
of s
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stupid feelings
and stupid womanly-ness.
and stupid womanly-ness.
© 2012 - 2024 ohsparrowsong
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Beautiful