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Literature Text
On the night before our wedding day, I spray-painted my
pretty white veil
black
and threw it over my face.
-
When I walked down the aisle, you asked me,
'Why is your wedding veil black?' and
I replied, 'You can't see me.'
You shrugged and said, 'But I've already seen you.'
I asked, 'Have you?'
-
During our honeymoon, you asked me,
'Do you want to be with me?' And I replied,
'I want to be with someone.'
-
We went to the beach. I skipped stones.
You asked, 'Why are you
skipping stones? They'll only
sink.'
And I said, 'I like to see how long I can keep them
above the water.'
-
I asked you what your biggest fear was. You said
death. I said, 'I am not afraid of death', but you
never knew; I am afraid of dying.
-
Alone.
pretty white veil
black
and threw it over my face.
-
When I walked down the aisle, you asked me,
'Why is your wedding veil black?' and
I replied, 'You can't see me.'
You shrugged and said, 'But I've already seen you.'
I asked, 'Have you?'
-
During our honeymoon, you asked me,
'Do you want to be with me?' And I replied,
'I want to be with someone.'
-
We went to the beach. I skipped stones.
You asked, 'Why are you
skipping stones? They'll only
sink.'
And I said, 'I like to see how long I can keep them
above the water.'
-
I asked you what your biggest fear was. You said
death. I said, 'I am not afraid of death', but you
never knew; I am afraid of dying.
-
Alone.
Literature
Born to Fly
I saw a boy with a kite on his back,
It was big and red, and considerably taller than the boy,
He ran down the street, his arms spread wide,
Laughing he ran by me.
I turned to watch him go and read the words printed on the kite;
They were bold and black,
They said: "Born to Fly
"
As I continued to watch him run, arms spread wide
The boy began to flap his arms furiously like wings.
Every beat of his arms in perfect time with the sound of his running footfalls,
I watched in awe as he leapt into the air,
And soared up into the sky, never threatening to fall.
He circled overhead, laughing in delight,
Then he flew a
Literature
because i am a cynic today.
today
you give yourself
away
to roads
seen only
through windows
wet
with rain; a sign
says
we are fifteen minutes
out of town,
but we say
we are
two years
out of luck
you surrender
to a map
(but it can never be
of life)
and so
we are still
lost
and no,
we will not find god here.
Literature
Snare
& she prefered her hind leg caught in those
greedy teeth
her trapp-ed-ness : her happiness
his puncture marks & their bittersweet ooze
to hold her; to let her
in her last moments
belong to him
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Comments111
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Haunting, and very lovely