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Literature Text
Buttons glittered delicately,
finger-stepping their way up a rigid spine,
whispering morse code to the brocade across her shoulders
don't.give.up.
while her chin rose proudly against words
meant to unravel lace.
Her shoes were dull against a gray sky, the soles thin,
but the worn leather smelling softly of shoe polish
and the memory of what it was like to shine.
This morning they supported her
as she stood tip-toe to kiss her husband goodbye
and climbed just a few more steps
to see one more sunrise.
In a moment, they will be all the world sees,
because they'll tell us more than we ever wanted to know
Kicking, twitching,
and finally,
stilling.
(more than we ever wanted to see)
finger-stepping their way up a rigid spine,
whispering morse code to the brocade across her shoulders
don't.give.up.
while her chin rose proudly against words
meant to unravel lace.
Her shoes were dull against a gray sky, the soles thin,
but the worn leather smelling softly of shoe polish
and the memory of what it was like to shine.
This morning they supported her
as she stood tip-toe to kiss her husband goodbye
and climbed just a few more steps
to see one more sunrise.
In a moment, they will be all the world sees,
because they'll tell us more than we ever wanted to know
Kicking, twitching,
and finally,
stilling.
(more than we ever wanted to see)
Literature
Christmas
Night was falling around Bethlehem, and the stars in the sky watched with interest a girl sneaking out of her home in the dark. They twinkled at each other, as if saying "Oh look, here she goes again", for she had been doing this ever since she had arrived when she was seven years old. Past the houses she ran, until she had left the village behind and could run openly across the meadows, her fingers dancing on the fleeces of sheep as she passed.
The girl slowed down to a careful walk as she neared a cavern. Here and there, geometrically arranged stones hinted at a long abandoned settlement. A sudden breeze sang in the grass beneath her feet,
Literature
...
fine then, just leave me alone
let me rot in this "shithole" existence
you don't like it?
well it's none of your business
try to turn me around
put me on "the right path"?
it won't work
you haven't experienced such wrath
and then experienced the everlasting calm
but you'll never understand
all you know is the bad
all you remember is sad
i'm sorry you felt the need to cut me off
it's a real shame
and you weren't even involved
as if our friendship was a game
well i miss your friendship
you hurt me just as badly
as the one you criticize
still, i would renew our bond, gladly
if you weren't this way or that
stubborn, hard headed
just open you
Literature
cardboard memory
pointing to the mirrored river
we wait and the water
confuses everything
barefoot, choosing flower after painted flower
we use the crushed ink to write letters in winter
the distance grows, the river murmurs
light scatters from it paler and paler
and the flowers dry near a melted candle
with a small bitter flame that sputters
there is no more than accusation now
here, when she was here, then
when my heart in the open air
beats a moment
a second
before
this little girl sat in a box on the floor
and i pulled her around
now, much later, there, probably somebody sings
Suggested Collections
Political correctness:
like looking at someones feet,
instead of their face
in an attempt to make it less real.
like looking at someones feet,
instead of their face
in an attempt to make it less real.
© 2011 - 2024 TheAfterWhys
Comments9
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Wow. I missed this one, somehow, when it got submitted in April. You always use words in such an interesting way, and it always draws me in. This is a bit darker than you usually do, however. Do you mind if I say what I think is going on in a comment, or would you rather me note it?