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Literature Text
i painted careful designson the outside of my glass heart—the fatal flaw being,of course,that you could see right through me.i supposeyou didn't wantthe fragile girl,the one who was romantic and sadand everything you weren't. you saidsomething along the lines of, "oh god,you're not becoming a sad girl,are you?"because everyone knowssad girlsare the worst kind of girls to break.and everyone knowssad boysare the worst kind of boys to love.but my glass heart,delicate lungsand empty stomachweren't right for you.you're the boy that sleeps on the floor becausehe hates his bed; the boy who cries into his pillowat night and thinks i don't know but i do; the boywho covers his sadness with a thick coat of sarcasmand angerwhile i covered minewith fog.instead, you took a solid heart.and another,and another.my glass oneis still lying on the floorshattered—broken.refused.i used to wish i could force you to step on the shards,but now i just wishi hadn'tusedglass.
Literature
an ocean only grows
a girl may shed tears
for those parted by the sea;
accumulation.
a lady can sob
in veins of wine, sweeten and
settle his sorrow.
a woman will weep
when a home leaks, leaks of a
future ne'er to be.
Literature
Howl
Tonight is a full moon
and in a car with closed windows, this could be any shit-kicking town
the man next to me is any other lumberjack
the girl in my seat is another small town misfit chasing an escape
we are riding West
toward stars
and nothing
but distance
and oblivion
my Howl chokes inside
the urge to strip naked and run
through trees, past neighborhoods, over bridges, and down streets
to the ocean
to return
to be baptized again
and again and again
until the salt and piss and whale semen eat away at this,
armor of jaded cynicism
to lie in the freezing midnight shallows
naked as we come
until my skin is raw and flushed
until my wits a
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Suggested Collections
-J.
© 2014 - 2024 The-Jelly-Princess
Comments4
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"and everyone knows
sad boys
are the worst kind of boys to love"