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Literature Text
I once knew a girl whose name was Summer
She acted like a child, she was so happy and wild
And she would always share her love,
She was always with a smile
But one day I noticed, she was no longer happy
So I approached her and said “Why so unhappy?”
She didn’t respond, she just started crying
Later she said “My father is dying.”
Her father had cancer, bedridden and solemn
I only had one answer, “We both know where he’s going.”
She grabbed my hand and responded with “Thank you.”
So then we stood up, and continued growing
A few weeks later, her father passed away
But I always held her, day by day
She never left my side, I helped her feel beloved
On the worst days of Summer, I gave her my love
She acted like a child, she was so happy and wild
And she would always share her love,
She was always with a smile
But one day I noticed, she was no longer happy
So I approached her and said “Why so unhappy?”
She didn’t respond, she just started crying
Later she said “My father is dying.”
Her father had cancer, bedridden and solemn
I only had one answer, “We both know where he’s going.”
She grabbed my hand and responded with “Thank you.”
So then we stood up, and continued growing
A few weeks later, her father passed away
But I always held her, day by day
She never left my side, I helped her feel beloved
On the worst days of Summer, I gave her my love
Literature
Permisson
I didn't give you permission
To come into my life
With all the subtlety of a train wreck
I didn't give you permission
To play around with my emotions
Like you did for the longest time
I didn't give you permission
To be so nice to me
Or to be so perfect in every way possible
I didn't give you permission
To make me like you
Or to become my friend
I didn't give you permission
To become the object
Of my affection
Nor did I give you permission
To be so beautiful
Or so unbelievably amazing
And I certainly
Didn't give you the permission
To steal my heart
Like you did
In that split second
When we first met
Literature
reasons why I don't fly away
above half-hearted streetlights and industrial flooding
and vague misinterpretations, I cut
a little too deep.
it always comes to this; hungry shivers,
dry voices, heavy breaths as your eyes
fixate upon a set point in the distance
which you label as happiness, a nirvana
in plain view but too far
for your rubber legs to take you there.
back then we were theorists developing
a new frontier; we were two dreamers,
two corpses on a collision course in
the desperate season. you warned me
there weren’t enough words to say
beautiful; as it turns out, we
were a slip of the tongue.
I woke this morning
a butterfly. you would like
the sun po
Literature
Springtime Swandive
I am not falling-- tumbling through
acrimonious stages of paranoia
meets depression meets all
those things I’ll never reach,
and it’s a quiet green thread that sews
these calloused palms to the gravitation
of your solidarity; dreams revolving
slowly around the circumference
of stranger stars, on their backs
sighing liquored lullabies and drifting
down to sleep.
there are few things in this life
which I know to be real when
I still cry out at night from the phantoms
tearing through my chest, but you are
the sun rising at 3 AM on a
sleepy Wednesday morning and the
last wish birthed on wanting lips and
the persistent anchor
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Comments27
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I love the last line, "On the worst days of Summer, I gave her my love"
This is a really sweet poem. I love it.
This is a really sweet poem. I love it.