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Literature Text
I can see you searching
through the poems
for yourself—
looking for those
threadbare stitches
of longing
that tie our wrist scars
together.
I am no good
at being Cinderella—
I loosen myself
in the arms of men
trying to find
our old afflictions
we shared like war stories
when we were both
each other's hero,
trying to find
a piece of similar
frightening flesh.
When you say
I should take a break
from romance
& I have love to give
I want to scream
"you are mine
because I saved you—
I am holy
& you are wholly
for me."
I can almost hear
the guiltless envy
tracing through
the half-cursive.
I am holding you
with tacks
like a butterfly—
our love should have
imploded us
& I am still waiting.
through the poems
for yourself—
looking for those
threadbare stitches
of longing
that tie our wrist scars
together.
I am no good
at being Cinderella—
I loosen myself
in the arms of men
trying to find
our old afflictions
we shared like war stories
when we were both
each other's hero,
trying to find
a piece of similar
frightening flesh.
When you say
I should take a break
from romance
& I have love to give
I want to scream
"you are mine
because I saved you—
I am holy
& you are wholly
for me."
I can almost hear
the guiltless envy
tracing through
the half-cursive.
I am holding you
with tacks
like a butterfly—
our love should have
imploded us
& I am still waiting.
Literature
My Promises To You
I promise to always love you
Today and every day that follows
I am handing you my heart
May it go wherever yours goes
I promise to never leave you
I will stand forever by your side
There's nothing that can break us
When our hearts are intertwined
I promise that in our dying days
When nothing is as it was before
Not only will I still love you
I will love you even more
Literature
You say you love me
You say you love to hear me ramble, yet you always cut me off.
You say you want a future with me, yet you see no future for yourself.
You say you love to make me smile, yet you always make me cry.
Literature
No Symmetry
He's the lone wolf in the woods,
She's the graceful doe in the grasslands.
He's the lost boy in the cities,
She's the sweet girl in the parties.
Yet the butterflies stringed them together,
While their gaze locked their eyes.
Yet he saw something that wasn't right,
While she thought she knew that was time.
Two stars met at the same time,
Although only one shone bright.
Two worlds met at the same time,
Although only one portal was seen in sight.
The wrong key to the wrong lock,
"The hand finally struck 12", she smiled.
The wrong half to the wrong heart.
"I'm a zombie and she's a human", he cried.
Suggested Collections
"O need, o city of gratitude rising around us, loveless metropolis
of skyscraper pride and trolleys of the lonesome. Our rickety architecture
claims its victims. Boxes of letters have been shredded but I won’t wipe
your handprints from the sliding glass door. Your blacksmith hands,
all cast iron confidence. No wedding or children but we did have our
secrets, our carelessly inflicted affections. O shared affliction. Undiluted
need. Fine, you said, Leave. But I know who you see when you close
your eyes at night. All our lost potential, our sorry scars. In the post office
of star crossed lovers, you wink from the sheriff’s posters, fugitive.
Come home. Where is my twin ruin, my holy solace? Nothing kneels down
in my tiny life—this cathedral where your face stains the windows."
-Nightmare of Horse and Church, Eireann Corrigan.
imk.
of skyscraper pride and trolleys of the lonesome. Our rickety architecture
claims its victims. Boxes of letters have been shredded but I won’t wipe
your handprints from the sliding glass door. Your blacksmith hands,
all cast iron confidence. No wedding or children but we did have our
secrets, our carelessly inflicted affections. O shared affliction. Undiluted
need. Fine, you said, Leave. But I know who you see when you close
your eyes at night. All our lost potential, our sorry scars. In the post office
of star crossed lovers, you wink from the sheriff’s posters, fugitive.
Come home. Where is my twin ruin, my holy solace? Nothing kneels down
in my tiny life—this cathedral where your face stains the windows."
-Nightmare of Horse and Church, Eireann Corrigan.
imk.
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Comments9
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You two are terribly romantic. Making me jealous over here! Lol. Oh, to be dating a poet... it's been so long...