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Literature Text
Thank you for being the reason I am writing this.
And I know what you're going to say—
Antoinette, you're too sentimental.
Yes, I am. Too sentimental for my own good
but darling, you make me so
Good.
Good.
The kind of good that makes me unafraid to smile
with crooked teeth.
You will make fun of it
but you will love it as well
as you capture my mouth with your tongue and
Bite.
The kind of good
that makes intellectual banter the type of sexy
word foreplay.
I like being on the top,
but you like having the last
Laugh.
The kind of good
when you tell me goodnight on the phone
and when I hang up, you're still there
talking about silly theories about myself
but you're still
There.
Brad, you make knowing me not pitiful but
Beautiful.
And I know what you're going to say—
Antoinette, you're too sentimental.
Yes, I am. Too sentimental for my own good
but darling, you make me so
Good.
Good.
The kind of good that makes me unafraid to smile
with crooked teeth.
You will make fun of it
but you will love it as well
as you capture my mouth with your tongue and
Bite.
The kind of good
that makes intellectual banter the type of sexy
word foreplay.
I like being on the top,
but you like having the last
Laugh.
The kind of good
when you tell me goodnight on the phone
and when I hang up, you're still there
talking about silly theories about myself
but you're still
There.
Brad, you make knowing me not pitiful but
Beautiful.
Literature
Vertigo
He sleeps the sleep of a man
who doesn't yet know that Love
sits sewing her shadow to the dawn,
nursing a subtle,
aching silence in his lungs
with her name, her shape.
He can't fathom how someone
can sit so deep inside him,
shelling the shadows of himself
as though there are moons at their core,
how he no longer believes
in falling lightly in love
but in committing himself
to inevitable call of concrete
or how she lingers like ink on his fingers,
like a story he's still figuring out how to write.
Literature
From Whence She Came
Back down to the sea-floor she goes
back to the coracle-clusters and starfish that
clamour, cling to her heart too tight,
walking barefoot towards where she
came from. It is too hard walking on
earth, the way she wears pain like a wedding ring
frightens people.
Back down, down, crawling on her belly
on the forest-floor, alive with the buzz and crawl
of worms and bird-prey. Back where she belongs with her
crazy palpitating wolf-heart, her bloody
deer-throat leaking in the snow, her yellow
eyes in the dark.
Back down, beyond subway trains, piano lessons,
falling rain, from whence she came, to the snow-covered womb
where she fir
Literature
My allotment
"For a man is destined to but once to live and allotted to each one time to die. This is the way it has been and will always be."
_____________________________________________________
Well, I can't really explain how it all happened or even why, so you'll get no help that way. What I can do is tell you what happened and maybe you can help me with the rest.
I was born the same as everyone else, went to school in Bozeman hated it just like everyone else grew up, got a girlfriend, got a job nearby; you know, I was a normal person. I got married and had two kids. I never moved out of the area. When my eldest was just three, war b
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Love is good. With passionate bites, tearful laughs and being there and being beautiful.
That's love.
That's love.
© 2012 - 2024 pencil-pawn
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