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Literature Text
i.
these are the secrets we keep pressed against the skin of
your thighs and the confessions we dare not release past the
even rhythm of our pulses; this is everything our tongues keep
to themselves beyond the angles of lopsided secret smiles
ii.
these are the badges of honor we keep tucked on the insides
of our collars and in the rolls of our sleeves; this is the faintest
touch of my teeth leaving their mark on your clavicle and
the excuses we make when our distinctions are discovered
iii.
these are the memories we whisper to ourselves in stairwells
and private moments during the car ride home; this is you
closing your eyes and feeling the sensation of something greater
than friction building deep inside the spaces between your ribs
iv.
these are the movements our bodies have orchestrated and
rehearsed one thousand times with our eyes closed until we may
perform them with eyes wide open; this is resisting the arch
of your back against the most innocent of touches on your neck
v.
these are the urges we keep behind our synapses and myelin
sheathed away from such unsteady and unready reactions; this
is a collection of every word we keep locked behind our lips
and inside the world we lovers keep beyond our door
these are the secrets we keep pressed against the skin of
your thighs and the confessions we dare not release past the
even rhythm of our pulses; this is everything our tongues keep
to themselves beyond the angles of lopsided secret smiles
ii.
these are the badges of honor we keep tucked on the insides
of our collars and in the rolls of our sleeves; this is the faintest
touch of my teeth leaving their mark on your clavicle and
the excuses we make when our distinctions are discovered
iii.
these are the memories we whisper to ourselves in stairwells
and private moments during the car ride home; this is you
closing your eyes and feeling the sensation of something greater
than friction building deep inside the spaces between your ribs
iv.
these are the movements our bodies have orchestrated and
rehearsed one thousand times with our eyes closed until we may
perform them with eyes wide open; this is resisting the arch
of your back against the most innocent of touches on your neck
v.
these are the urges we keep behind our synapses and myelin
sheathed away from such unsteady and unready reactions; this
is a collection of every word we keep locked behind our lips
and inside the world we lovers keep beyond our door
Literature
this.
you have shaded eyes quiet smile dark hair love ─
and I could do anything
if it wasn't for you.
collapse the borders on the edge of my vision;
everything's faded out to black shards.
It's cliché and stupid and it won't mean a thing to you, but I know
I won't be able to breathe when you leave tomorrow.
the shield whispering around my skin
was untouchable, I thought, perfect;
no one would be able to get in.
But you passed right through without even trying.
arou
Literature
flickering.
there are days
i want my skin to melt
like wax so i can watch my
heart dream, dilate, digest
i am a sleepwalker,
a toy soldier aimed
at the horizon, and you
are watching me fall
off the edge
of the world in a rush
of fire and gasoline
smoke and love
i am standing on the sun
in pink stilettos
and i'm nothing more than
a wax figurine
burning out
Literature
you -
i. refuse help.
we sit
on the edge
of pavements,
drawing circles
with crosses
and you tell me
this all
must end.
ii. are a cry
for attention. a crow
in a sky
of pidgeons. red marrs
skin,
footsteps
on a foreign
moon; a game
all along.
iii. lose the game.
iv. don't realize:
we have been paying
attention
all along; loving
your crashed
space ships,
your lost
advances. it
is you
that has not
cared.
Suggested Collections
for sake of better terminology, this, darling, is bloodlust at its sexiest
why, yes, this is about sex
why, yes, this is about sex
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