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Literature Text
In the sweep of the months
following our truce on the stoop,
I learned to be a ballerina
tiptoeing around your darkest nights
like I knew how it felt
to depend on the moods of the moon.
A fickle, angry mistress,
she tore your bones apart
beneath empty-canvas skies
before gluing you back together,
a fragile paper doll
with fur and fangs
instead of string.
In the weeks
the curse turned you loose,
we found eternity
hidden between the verses
of musty poetry books
and the stories
we had to strain to remember--
but leading up
to the dark of a new moon,
the skin on your arms bristled
and I hid myself away
to listen to your tortured howls
with my hands covering bruises
that never healed.
following our truce on the stoop,
I learned to be a ballerina
tiptoeing around your darkest nights
like I knew how it felt
to depend on the moods of the moon.
A fickle, angry mistress,
she tore your bones apart
beneath empty-canvas skies
before gluing you back together,
a fragile paper doll
with fur and fangs
instead of string.
In the weeks
the curse turned you loose,
we found eternity
hidden between the verses
of musty poetry books
and the stories
we had to strain to remember--
but leading up
to the dark of a new moon,
the skin on your arms bristled
and I hid myself away
to listen to your tortured howls
with my hands covering bruises
that never healed.
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's 100 Themes Challenge
Day 007 -- Eternity
In the days leading up to the change,
you forgot me all over again.
August 31st, 2014
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Comments6
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I still love how well these flow together with each other.