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Literature Text
yesterday i saw you in cracks of my staircase
and inbetween the pages of my class novel.
you look like hell, and i thought the
darkened circles under your eyes
resembled the colour i think my
love for you would probably be.
its saddening that the thick oxygenated
purple and red mix is kind of like
what i saw once one one
of those anti smoking commercials
spilling forth from a dissected lung.
thats what you are.
you're my personal cancer.
Literature
comatose.
i never told you:
i hated the way you smelled
like winter, like
fog or listerine or
something long forgotten.
i guess i miss you the way
i miss brooklyn,
all thirsty for a song
i've never heard, pining for
a place i've never been.
homesick.
--
i never told you:
i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,
like bruises sleeping fallow
along my hipbones.
i promise i'll love you always, i promise
i'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,
and if you let me,
i'll fix you –
well, you never were a fixer.
what you are is tired, and you never understood
why this fucked-up little town
unmade its bed, swallowed an
Literature
what to do when he doesn't say it back
a)
you will give all of yourself to a boy who won't know you at all.
he will recycle your parts, make you stationary, bind you into
paper that he will gift back so you can write poetry about him.
you, too, say i love you quickly.
when he doesn't say it back, evaporate.
b)
he will kiss you in places you didn't know existed.
until him, you were a peasant in your body's palace.
he crowned you princess, broke the lock of your castle's gates.
when he doesn't say it back, load your cannons.
c)
you are a fountain pen.
look him in the eye when you write him letters on your skin.
when he asks to read them, surrender.
you have always be
Literature
Getting Back.
Don't bother getting back to me.
I'm not interested in your 'Hey-there-kid' replies or your crackly midnight calls.
Those things I should have forgotten, but I can't, I can't, no.
No..
You left me on the back of that trailer, with my hair all wet and wretched black. Turns out letting you dye it with coca cola wasn't the best idea.
You never had the best ideas.
Don't bother getting back to me.
Cause I'm not interested in your arms or your dreams all drawn out in charcoal.
I won't take your smokes - weed doesn't work on me. Nor would chocolates or flowers if you'd even tried. But addiction was our language and drugs were the words. The thi
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fuck. fuck. fuck.
something just kicked me in the ribs
and i'm too scared to look at the bruise
cause i know its you
you little fucker.
something just kicked me in the ribs
and i'm too scared to look at the bruise
cause i know its you
you little fucker.
© 2013 - 2024 ohsparrowsong
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Lovely imagery.