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Literature Text
“I adore you,”
she said, whimsically twisted in the rippled gossamer sheets of their bed.
And in these words were memories of weather-worn love letters,
long kisses with smeared roseate lipstick,
and layered mascara outlining her chatoyant eyes,
for he loved the way it looked.
“I misspoke,”
she said months later, tightly grasping the rippled gossamer sheets of her bed.
And in these words were soiled and crumpled goodbye notes,
untarnished roseate lipstick on her opulent lips,
and smeared mascara, creating an ashy mess on her pillowcase,
for who cares if he used to love the way it looked.
She whispered to empty sheets,
“I meant abhor you.”
she said, whimsically twisted in the rippled gossamer sheets of their bed.
And in these words were memories of weather-worn love letters,
long kisses with smeared roseate lipstick,
and layered mascara outlining her chatoyant eyes,
for he loved the way it looked.
“I misspoke,”
she said months later, tightly grasping the rippled gossamer sheets of her bed.
And in these words were soiled and crumpled goodbye notes,
untarnished roseate lipstick on her opulent lips,
and smeared mascara, creating an ashy mess on her pillowcase,
for who cares if he used to love the way it looked.
She whispered to empty sheets,
“I meant abhor you.”
Literature
Poets And Artists.
I am self-destructive.
You are the affected.
I’m a thought that’s still in motion.
You’re an idea perfected.
I’m a sacrifice without you.
But with your life, I’m injected.
I’m a thousand puzzle pieces.
You’re the way to connect it.
Literature
There's a devil in my bottle
There's a devil in my bottle
he's offering me a trade
one singeing little sip
and he'll burn my memories away,
and I let him burn
the remnants of it down
and from his little bottle
I began to drown.
There's a devil at my doorstep
he's offering me a deal
if I burn it to the ground
my sadness he will steal
and I let him in
to take from me
all the things I don't want
or can't agree
to keep.
There's a devil on my shoulder
he's giving me choice
let life drain what's left
or pull the trigger just once
and I want to listen to him
what else should I do
the devil's already here
so hell must be here too.
There's a devil in my heart
he likes to speak t
Literature
Eyes
They told me not to look,
But I always do.
I can't help it you know?
Their eyes are so beautiful...
Each one shines with a colour from the rainbow.
Some are green, some are blue.
You might even find a set of gold amongst the lot.
Some of them shine like pearls,
Others twinkle like stars in the sky.
Each one holds a fragile soul,
Each one has its own sense of depth.
And so, I always end up looking into their eyes...
Right before I blink mine and I firmly squeeze the trigger...
Bang...
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I wrote a little excerpt that said: "I said that I adore you, I misspoke, I meant abhor you." This is just an expansion of that idea! I am not quite sure if the way this is set up is confusing? Or does it work? Feedback appreciated! Thank you all for taking the time to read and critique! <3
UPDATE: Added some italics for emphasis on two words I thought needed more attention in the poem. And thanks to massive-drama for noting me and giving me extensive suggestions! I ended up using the idea to make the second stanza with goodbye notes, and think it leaves a much better impact! So THANK YOU!
UPDATE: Added some italics for emphasis on two words I thought needed more attention in the poem. And thanks to massive-drama for noting me and giving me extensive suggestions! I ended up using the idea to make the second stanza with goodbye notes, and think it leaves a much better impact! So THANK YOU!
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Oh the feels….