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Literature Text
it was never about your breath. your hair looked like static after a summer storm. the gap in between your two front teeth was never mended by braces. the freckles on your face overtook your features like the byzantine empire. your eyes were dull tide pools, swirling.
on that day, sulfur streaks painted the sky, suffocating those cicadas children in the underbrush. you walked straight into the ocean, and the way you left without any words captured my attention.
and while you drifted off the california coast, i realised i fell for a girl who was in love with aeroplane engines because she could not muster a rumble from the back of her throat.
on that day, sulfur streaks painted the sky, suffocating those cicadas children in the underbrush. you walked straight into the ocean, and the way you left without any words captured my attention.
and while you drifted off the california coast, i realised i fell for a girl who was in love with aeroplane engines because she could not muster a rumble from the back of her throat.
Literature
undefinable.
describing him wasn't really as easy as they thought. they'd think of the first thing that popped to mind, and it tends to be; "he's like a stolid shell of whirling thoughts and jumbled words that seem to rush out of him in one sharp breath."
to me, he's an unlimited number of letters, words and numbers. he's a collage of the world's images, and he blends them together into a pièce de résistance. he lives by his superstitions and adores clichés, and refuses to believe in the ordinary. he pulls people to him, and they are oblivious to it.
they say, "being with him is like plunging into a whirlpool, impossible to clear your hea
Literature
astronomers
when we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers – creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.
Literature
On strength
A sunlit cobweb -
only the spider knows
how many times
it broke
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it's all about the way you left without words,
not because you didn't want to speak but because you couldn't.
for #The-Writers-Review's contest: break the love cliché
not because you didn't want to speak but because you couldn't.
for #The-Writers-Review's contest: break the love cliché
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i just completely adore your work.
every line.
wow.
every line.
wow.