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Literature Text
it doesn't matter what
anybody else call you,
when i call you names
like "lover" and "mine"
and "hot sexy beast".
it doesn't matter that
we don't even live in
the same country, or
that we've never met
and that we probably won't for
eight hundred and eight years;
that's eight hundred and eight
years too many to live without
your shining face brightening
my otherwise unbearable life.
it doesn't matter that
this is cheesy as fuck
and been said before
but as long as you're
smiling, then i'm good.
it doesn't matter that i can't see it
because i believe it. in this. in us.
it doesn't matter that
nobody knows about
us. well, maybe two
people do. but two
isn't comparable to
how much we want
to be with each other,
in each other's beds,
in each other's city.
none of that matters because
at least we're in each other's
Hearts
anybody else call you,
when i call you names
like "lover" and "mine"
and "hot sexy beast".
it doesn't matter that
we don't even live in
the same country, or
that we've never met
and that we probably won't for
eight hundred and eight years;
that's eight hundred and eight
years too many to live without
your shining face brightening
my otherwise unbearable life.
it doesn't matter that
this is cheesy as fuck
and been said before
but as long as you're
smiling, then i'm good.
it doesn't matter that i can't see it
because i believe it. in this. in us.
it doesn't matter that
nobody knows about
us. well, maybe two
people do. but two
isn't comparable to
how much we want
to be with each other,
in each other's beds,
in each other's city.
none of that matters because
at least we're in each other's
Hearts
Literature
shuteye
got my mama
a golden needle,
but
she hid it
in the hay -
told me
the sweet things in life
are worth looking for
over
and over
again
'til your eyes just
can't see
anymore.
Literature
march.
i knew march.
birds chirped
beneath
my hands,
their bones
snapped
like ashen twigs.
i remained bare,
purpose not suffered
by adornments.
may was the missing
piece, his face
purple, touched
too hard by the angels.
i did not understand.
but i knew march
and it was enough.
be my silence; my sanctuary,
she sang.
but i could not be brave.
my arms did not reach god.
Literature
living in your lies
dear girl
its like you dont even know you anymore. and when people talk about you, its almost as if you have no idea who theyre speaking about or whether any of what they say is true. its to the point where you started avoiding mirrors or catching your own eye in the reflection of windows, because you dont even recognize yourself anymore. maybe your hairs a mess and your clothes dont match, but at least you can keep pretending that youre not uncomfortable in your own skin. youve become a stranger and it scares you since youve always been most afraid of the things you don
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if my heart was a house, you'd be home
<33
i don't like writing when i'm happy.
that's why i've not been spamming
your inboxes lately. but i'm happy.
<33
i don't like writing when i'm happy.
that's why i've not been spamming
your inboxes lately. but i'm happy.
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Comments163
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Owl City?
YES,
yesyesyesplz
YES,
yesyesyesplz