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Literature Text
Tell me you love me
the way you love the sky when it rains.
Would that be a lie?
Yes.
Then move on, move away,
let my clouds thunder
and my blood pour,
I am sick of this weather
but I'm even more sick of you;
diseased with a molding horizon
dancing along my hips,
I am ready for winter
so let it snow, bitch.
the way you love the sky when it rains.
Would that be a lie?
Yes.
Then move on, move away,
let my clouds thunder
and my blood pour,
I am sick of this weather
but I'm even more sick of you;
diseased with a molding horizon
dancing along my hips,
I am ready for winter
so let it snow, bitch.
Literature
In the pretext of sleep
In the pretext of sleep, my mind wanders even though I am physically exhausted. I can feel the dull ache of my tiring body slowly cooling down and relaxing. Surely, my conscious realizes that it’s time to be resting my body. The second this thought of rest arrives, it is rudely interrupted by the overwhelming thoughts of the wandering mind. I can feel my thoughts ranging from the tiniest of incidents that happened throughout the day, to my deepest insecurities. The worst part about this entire charade is that its intensity gets more when I’m the most spent physically. I guess its just a part and parcel of being an introverted over
Literature
Sometimes
Sometimes, the smallest things in life become the most important to you, and sometimes it doesnt.
Literature
Waking Up
~Of the Dark
“Are you dreaming?” A small voice asked her.
“I do not think so…” She would reply.
“But how can you tell?” The small voice would ask again.
“Because I have never been asleep!” She would say with confidence.
“Are you sure that, instead, you have never been awake?” The voice would say, shattering her confidence. And neither would speak, letting silence chase darkness for an eternity.
“Are you having a nightmare?” She would ask the voice.
“I think that i am…” The voice would reply.
“But how can you be sure?” She asked o
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Comments10
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My reaction to this poem: 
Great impact!
Great impact!