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Literature Text
death came tapping
on his window
(there's nothing to fear
he's gone now)
on his window
(there's nothing to fear
he's gone now)
Literature
first kiss
I will be
the rolling waves,
and you can be
the sandy shore
I'll kiss with salty lips,
and then keep
coming back for more
Literature
i would do anything to get you to love yourself
i know your type, i’ve seen them around here
before, browsing through my poems like
you’re flipping through vinyl records, trying to find
that one disc you were listening to the first time
he leaned over and kissed you.
the only way you’ll ever be able to love yourself
is if he leans over and kisses you again, is if someone
tells you about the seven wonders of your soul, if
someone sits down and writes a list of all your beautiful
fault lines that you’ve never been able to forgive.
you want to love yourself and you want to be loved,
but i know it’s hard to believe that you’re holy,
when your hands still s
Literature
an atheist's prayer
dear god,
i planted no tulips in autumn
and no tulips came in spring.
how silly of me, then
to mourn the empty garden,
to long for fields of amsterdam,
to kneel at night in cold dirt,
hands folded.
i’ve learned there is
a certain ache in lacking
a thing never had, that small itch
whose relief is two seasons past –
so god, if you can hear me,
know that i am homesick
for amsterdam,
whose name, like yours, i know
but whose flowers i cannot see.
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It's late. I should be sleeping but I don't wanna. 3:13 A.M.
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