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Literature Text
whatever was the meaning of
the tiny stars on your back
and freckles you didn't have- (but would suit you.)
when did i miss the
nostalgic like memories and
the days spent
losing wars,
i don't care how
many times i will become void;
my heart always knew i was a
repeating, broken
record-- but why, why
did i lose my eyesight?
i broke my glasses long ago but i
see lilacs in your eyes
and golden hearts beneath your feet (shattered)
when will i understand
the meaning of time and time lost
and time spent wading in waters
of empty words you never heard
and never will, because oh dear,
i'm beginning to see that people like you
have hearing trouble.
Literature
faded smiles and lost hopes
she's never alone but
you cannot taste loneliness.
and (she dissolves)
she'll smile sadly when you name her atlas,
because you forgot she carries suffering not hope.
(you forgot everything she had to give up,
you forgot to shoulder some of the weight,
youforgot,youforgot,youforgot,youforgot).
[repeat it, repeat it, repeat it and
listen to her bones crack.]
you cannot claim something you never had;
she held everyone but
no one
held
her.
[she's slipping through your fingers.]
take her gently by the wrist,
but it is too late.
(she shatters at the lightest touch).
Literature
Easy
These days
my prince in shining armor
is a manic-pixie-dream-girl
who shows up on my doorstep
reeking of patchouli
and old leather
and maybe something dank
she has a free seat in her van
and stardust in her hands
coffee on her lips
and I am
smitten
with the curves of liberation
chasing willow breezes
under the swirl
of the night sky
weightless
.
she leaves me
after a month
for blackberry brambles
and psychedelic punch
and someone
who still dreams
but
I keep the van
live off of ground cherries
and chestnuts
on the banks
of the loneliest river
I can find
I watch the currents
carry away tomorrow
and finally drink my fill
of peace
Literature
A burden, curse
I’m coming back from a few rough months, and here is my first offering. A piece about my bipolar and anxiety disorder.
She cursed herself silently, like
a prayer that can only be said
in the shadows, without other
people hearing—“fuck you, you've
wasted everything, let down
everyone, you deserve this.”
Like this, she doesn’t condemn
herself, she burns for herself,
lights her skeleton on fire, ignites
her mind with the what ifs and
should have beens, all of it.
She is standing, resolute, feet
apart, a sure stance, she is sure
to break down, her elbows will
crush at the weight of all her
inhibitions, her lungs wil
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such a repeating record, my stories all sound the same, don't listen to my sob stories
© 2013 - 2024 oliviacolomar
Comments2
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Nice images, I liked the ending as well.