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Literature Text
Orange skin
My dearest,
Your orange skin makes me warm in December
like the Sea is a blanket to the sand
and the Sun nurtures youth to our land
i'll be Your pocket -
You may keep all Your secrets inside of me
be shy and be not
there's nothing You should be afraid of
while You're here, with me
on this Pale Blue Dot.
My dearest,
Your orange skin makes me warm in December
like the Sea is a blanket to the sand
and the Sun nurtures youth to our land
i'll be Your pocket -
You may keep all Your secrets inside of me
be shy and be not
there's nothing You should be afraid of
while You're here, with me
on this Pale Blue Dot.
Literature
Crayon Soulmates
Dear Stars,
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have su
Literature
Constructive Criticism
"Tell me what you think."
"Of the poem?"
"No, of my face. Yes, the poem."
"I was going to say, because your face is just stupid."
"Very funny. Read."
"..."
"What did you think?"
"Why did you write this?"
"I wrote it for you."
"For me?"
"Yes."
"You make me self conscious when you say things like that."
"I know."
"I'm not worth this you know."
"What does that mean?"
"I am half a girl, and I deserve half a poem."
"That is not true, and you still haven't told me what you really thought about it."
"It's as broken and complex and half hearted as a sad song about the way you feel ink trail between your fingers like it's blood. There
Literature
Whisper
I want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —
No.
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
gods
and
chaos.
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Comments33
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I love that "sea is a blanket to the sand" line!