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literature
because words arent that loud
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Literature Text
I liked the idea
of running away.
When my organs swelled and sagged
to the floor and another one of me
had climbed inside the airtight bag
attached to my ankles, I knew
I could follow the daisy chains
that fell from your eyes, twirling around
until wrapped, hug-tight
in you.
I did not consider you surviving on your own,
I forgot to tell you how often I think about you
and of the greyscale dreams in which we walk
palm-pressed through shopping malls
with all the time in the world
and my hands turn to earthquakes
because this is all too real
and my heart is a space shuttle
breaking through ozone-layered skin.
I could sit outside your house
in four AM moonlight, folding my heart
into one thousand paper airplanes
to aim at your window
but you still would not understand
what I want you to.
‘I miss you’ just does not tell you
of the days I spent dipped in sighs
or the constant crumbling of my ribs
against the shockwave of a thought
of you --
not calling back.
Or the snapping feeling in my head
as I put aspirin to mouth
to kill the headache from all the loosened clouds
that cause havoc in my eyeballs.
I am a car door,
being slammed shut, you have the key
and I am asking you why
you lodge it in your pocket
but you cannot hear because I’m locked too far
on the inside.
of running away.
When my organs swelled and sagged
to the floor and another one of me
had climbed inside the airtight bag
attached to my ankles, I knew
I could follow the daisy chains
that fell from your eyes, twirling around
until wrapped, hug-tight
in you.
I did not consider you surviving on your own,
I forgot to tell you how often I think about you
and of the greyscale dreams in which we walk
palm-pressed through shopping malls
with all the time in the world
and my hands turn to earthquakes
because this is all too real
and my heart is a space shuttle
breaking through ozone-layered skin.
I could sit outside your house
in four AM moonlight, folding my heart
into one thousand paper airplanes
to aim at your window
but you still would not understand
what I want you to.
‘I miss you’ just does not tell you
of the days I spent dipped in sighs
or the constant crumbling of my ribs
against the shockwave of a thought
of you --
not calling back.
Or the snapping feeling in my head
as I put aspirin to mouth
to kill the headache from all the loosened clouds
that cause havoc in my eyeballs.
I am a car door,
being slammed shut, you have the key
and I am asking you why
you lodge it in your pocket
but you cannot hear because I’m locked too far
on the inside.
..
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