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Literature Text
I was only leading you on
you know that now
but you keep quiet
because when you're safe
you don't make a sound
I was only trying to pick up the pieces on the ground
I was only leading you on
and the reflection in your eyes
casting off the ties
moving forward
and leaving me behinde
can't we agreed
there was some spark?
when I was only leading you on
you know that now
but you keep quiet
because when you're safe
you don't make a sound
I was only trying to pick up the pieces on the ground
I was only leading you on
and the reflection in your eyes
casting off the ties
moving forward
and leaving me behinde
can't we agreed
there was some spark?
when I was only leading you on
Literature
Foresight
Debra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.
Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline. Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects. No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input.
Her computer was equally immaculate. Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons. If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff.
She dressed neatly but very plainly. I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe an
Literature
October
I only felt autumn's presence
In October, in Hamburg
A month after she was expected
Crisp leaves, warm light
Geese on the lawn by the lake
And loneliness
Stretching through short days and long nights
Heralds of winter's coming
Shoes worn thin by miles
I wander, a stranger, mute
Head full, heart singing
The love of dark trunks and bright leaves
Untempered by geography
Or language
Literature
defeathered
and this is where we bury our hearts,
between self-defeating personality disorders
and burnt bridges and midnight ramblings
we promise ourselves aren’t true;
embedding our memories in forsaken homes
like it is a conscious decision to shed
our wings (reptiles don’t fly)
and maybe I am the monster of every
myth: wide-eyed and jagged toothed and
looking to regain a piece of myself the
world borrowed, many moons ago
as I falter and stumble over my own unaware
feet, wreaking havoc, reeking of self-acquittal--
all I ever wanted to do was belong.
dreams are flaws much like the hearts we
flaunt on our sleeves, and I seem to
have len
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Comments7
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Ok so I'm kind of confused about the poem but I still love it!