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Literature Text
someday i will cut my hair,
let the dresser do her worst
will watch the ends go first, light
from holding all of the sun, hear the
sharpness of the shears, will feel
buoyant, and alright
and leave the dark waves behind --
someday i will bind my hands
with golden bands, will let a
man lace his fingers
through the spaces between mine,
palm to palm, squeezing tight
like a promise kept
but not yet, not yet -
for now i will spread my
fingers wide like branches
against the sky, grab anything
that glitters, let go without guilt
someday i will fill my mouth
with warm food in a safe house,
i will be soft and comfortable
with shoulders wide enough
to hold your head when it aches
but today i am hungry, hungry,
i am starving for more, all
sharp edges and corners with
shiny ribs and teeth and
a lightning storm between my
bones and behind my eyes
-- someday i will cut my hair,
but not today, dear heart, not yet,
today i will let it catch
the gales like tattered sails,
warm under the palm of your hand
from the late afternoon sunshine,
a dark river in the wake of my
running wild.
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Literature
i keep my hair like i keep my blue jeans: short
the beginning
she was all curls falling over shoulders and small hands and slender ankles, but she was also all crooked toes and cheek moles and half-baked smiles. she wore skinny jeans too long and too big on her and she always wore a jacket because she was always cold. and he thought that she was pretty beautiful the first time he saw her in a parade, sitting on top of a dodge truck and waving with both hands so that no one was left out. she was the kind of pretty beautiful that only came around when he said something stupid and she shook her head at him, trying to hide her teeth but failing miserably.
she wore glasses but only when sh
Literature
-
you helpless little broken-winged bird,
you scribble so furiously with your unbroken claws about your "freedom",
with profanity and cursing and meaningless insults every other syllable.
don't you know that you've encaged yourself in hate?
Literature
Osmosis
My brother and I
used to walk on the beach.
We’d step from rock to rock and
end up far out in the ocean.
He’d always climb down
and let the water lick his pants.
I’d look at him with groundless terror
masked as judgment and he’d say
What? We’ll get wet anyway.
I’d always end up in the water,
wet socks and pants, Mom would scold,
but I always acted like this time I wouldn’t.
I knew it would happen, but I never let it,
and when water crept through my shoes
I’d cry for being such a fool, for letting it.
Osmosis be damned, it was my fault
for not trying harder.
~~~
Half of my sleeping night
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you swim from pulling tides
that swallow you at night
let go, let go, into
these rolling waves
---
turns out i am stronger than either of us could have ever known. SO THERE.
---
thank you all so much for the love. there are bitter days and better days. the bitter days sound like this, a companion piece, sort of.
that swallow you at night
let go, let go, into
these rolling waves
---
turns out i am stronger than either of us could have ever known. SO THERE.
---
thank you all so much for the love. there are bitter days and better days. the bitter days sound like this, a companion piece, sort of.
© 2014 - 2024 SuddenlyAutumn
Comments16
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When I cut my hair it will be to finally forget- but this, this I love fingers branching out to the sun