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Literature Text
Hope.
It's that niggling
in the
p
i
t
of my stomach
that demands I keep holding on with both hands
long after reality
has woken me up
and shown me
that I was never worthy
of such a
chance.
Literature
these feelings should be finite
I'm terrified and I know there's nothing unique about this, but I'm standing here completely out of touch with the rest of the world, realizing for the first time that we all feel things a little bit differently, which is why this doesn't hurt for you at all. I figure the only logical reason for how you could do this as if it means nothing was if it really did mean nothing at all for you. It's easier to hate you this way. It's easier to forget you without the burn of your kiss against my skin. It's easier to stay mad if I don't have to remember the way that it felt. Most of all, I can forget this as if it's a memory in someone else's lifetime
Literature
I hope it's worth it when I'm gone.
I can't even pretend things are simple anymore.
It's raining again, and with every crash of thunder, I miss you more than I can bear. I know it's not worth saying, because really nothing much is anymore, but it doesn't make it any less true.
It's eleven ten on a Friday night, and I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, watching the downpour spill off the roof. My t-shirt is clinging to my ribcage, and my hair is sticking to my face. I can feel the water running down the ridges of my spine, the backs of my hands, clumping in my eyelashes, but still, I don't move. Sometimes, when I can't stand what the world is doing anymore, I allow myself a
Literature
Don't You Dare
i know you
won't dare love another
girl like me [because she'll
be able to taste the lament and
love written across your skin.
she'll see the 'claimed' sign
behind your eyes, and shiver.
we writers never infringe on
other poets' property].
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It's that thing
that keeps telling me to keep my head up
when the world
is falling
apart in my hands.
***Title borrowed from Emily Dickinson's Hope is the thing with feathers.***
February 2011
that keeps telling me to keep my head up
when the world
is falling
apart in my hands.
***Title borrowed from Emily Dickinson's Hope is the thing with feathers.***
February 2011
© 2011 - 2024 betwixtthepages
Comments17
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Darling, I really do love the formatting in this! It *almost* blew my head off. (I still want it, ya know. 
)
)