ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
she threw love at the trees and watched it tangle in the branches, and cling like dew drops on the leaves. love belonged there.
love belonged with the trees.
she threw love at the children and watched them dance around with it twirling behind them like ribbons, and tied in their hair. love belonged there.
love belongs with the children
she threw love at the sea and watched it sink and swirl in the waves, and follow the schools of the fish through the corals and the weeds. love belonged there.
love belongs in the sea.
she threw love at a window. a car. a park bench.
she threw love at anything but you. because love doesn't belong with you.
love belonged with the trees.
she threw love at the children and watched them dance around with it twirling behind them like ribbons, and tied in their hair. love belonged there.
love belongs with the children
she threw love at the sea and watched it sink and swirl in the waves, and follow the schools of the fish through the corals and the weeds. love belonged there.
love belongs in the sea.
she threw love at a window. a car. a park bench.
she threw love at anything but you. because love doesn't belong with you.
Literature
our sleeping patterns collide.
I wake up tired.
I wake up tired and it's afternoon again.
I wake up tired and I am alone.
It's like every night i fall asleep with you on my mind, and I quickly sort through my thoughts leaving the prettiest ones on top so I can try them on in the morning. So everyday, I wake up and try on being in love with you. Except every morning, it's three inches too big or a centimeter and a half too small or it's brushing my kneecaps like it's too long. But I wear it anyways, since I'm used to being a shade left of ordinary or two steps past crazy. I'm used to wearing love and I'm used to you.
I'm used to falling asleep next to you and waking up
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
Literature
You and I,
we're a stunted little paragraph blowing in the wind,
full of maybes and we could have beens.
We're winter nights dancing through the sky,
dreaming of warmth and summer, burntskin sunscreen.
We're fruits hanging from a tree,
ripe with promise and fearing bitter seeds.
We're dripping photographs in darkrooms waiting to become something beautiful.
You and I, we're not fancy like fireworks. Sparks
are the little lights that dance between us when we smile.
Sparks are private things and they shine more prettily
when no one else can see them except you and me.
So when I write poetry about us,
it won't be about mountains and kisses
and
Suggested Collections
repetition is pleasant to play with.
she threw love, she threw love.
[to~E1andE2 and her wonderful conversations, i love you. and i thanks for that line.
]
she threw love, she threw love.
[to~E1andE2 and her wonderful conversations, i love you. and i thanks for that line.
] © 2009 - 2024 fierypoplartree
Comments52
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
sometimes, i just like poems because they make me feel things
this made me feel
and it was nice.
this made me feel
and it was nice.