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Literature Text
When they told me you were in hospital, I didn't breathe for a minute. My cheeks flushed crimson like the scars I know you keep for the sad days and my voice disappeared into a single 'Oh.' It wasn't that I didn't care enough to exclaim in worry; it's just that I cared too much to speak a word, in case that word was the wrong word.
One word can make the whole world flare up in a burst of flames.
I have a problem with shaking. He told me his feet were cold, so I stood on them for him, wobbled and almost fell over backwards. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I didn't mean to fuck him on the sofa, that's just what happens when the morning turns hazy with smoke. At least it wasn't the bathroom floor.
One day I'll look back on all of this and feel something, anything.
You are the only one I'd stay awake for until 2am when I have to wake up at six in the morning to stumble into the madness of school. Just to check that you're ok, that hospital hasn't made you drowsy and that the rumours are only rumours. Just to check that we're still friends.
One thing, we are still friends, aren't we?
One word can make the whole world flare up in a burst of flames.
I have a problem with shaking. He told me his feet were cold, so I stood on them for him, wobbled and almost fell over backwards. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I didn't mean to fuck him on the sofa, that's just what happens when the morning turns hazy with smoke. At least it wasn't the bathroom floor.
One day I'll look back on all of this and feel something, anything.
You are the only one I'd stay awake for until 2am when I have to wake up at six in the morning to stumble into the madness of school. Just to check that you're ok, that hospital hasn't made you drowsy and that the rumours are only rumours. Just to check that we're still friends.
One thing, we are still friends, aren't we?
Literature
The Ballad
You once told me music could be made from anything in the world. I didn't believe you for a long time. I used to drive the streets of where we loved hearing soft murmurs of music in the folds of the tree trunks and the ripples of the rivers. I understood that music could come from the very depths of some being . But not from anything .
When words fail me,
Listen to my Musique,
Fold into the Melody,
Of a haunting Echo.
I listened hard when I walked through cool green fields of tall grass leaning to its neighbours. I heard the beat of an owls wings last night - you probably wouldn't believe me if I had told you that I could p
Literature
Spasm
Two paper hands
held together
with glue and wooden bones.
meant to be.
Instead of capturing
my heart, you captured
my lungs
and every stuttered breath
along with it.
You didn't have
to knock my head off
it contorted and
fell off on its own.
Literature
Firsts
I had sex
for the first time
on a Sunday
when
October air
ate away the blinds
and snake-lines of light
pressed in
at undone corners.
I remember less of you,
and more of me,
cocooned
in yellow sheets
how you kept mumbling
questions and I
lay there,
still.
The prodding,
the jostle,
are so much less vivid
than the sense
that I was shedding
skin
becoming something,
tighter,
slimmer,
more stream-lined.
So that later
in the bathroom,
I saw myself,
the mirror
twisting my hipbones
into
shelves that I could
rest my elbows on.
I was nineteen
then,
so you,
two times my weight,
welding my bones
into yours,
made
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