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Literature Text
he pulled the blanket over our heads
and said,
'this is our home now.'
and it was.
and said,
'this is our home now.'
and it was.
Literature
these feelings should be finite
I'm terrified and I know there's nothing unique about this, but I'm standing here completely out of touch with the rest of the world, realizing for the first time that we all feel things a little bit differently, which is why this doesn't hurt for you at all. I figure the only logical reason for how you could do this as if it means nothing was if it really did mean nothing at all for you. It's easier to hate you this way. It's easier to forget you without the burn of your kiss against my skin. It's easier to stay mad if I don't have to remember the way that it felt. Most of all, I can forget this as if it's a memory in someone else's lifetime
Literature
Your Constellations
I'm falling into your constellations
wishing on the crook of your neck
that you would fall in love with me.
I've been stuck in your galaxy for
so long now
I can't bear the thought of losing you.
But you're not mine to lose,
are you?
I'm wasting all my time
holding onto someone who
isn't holding onto me.
But if I had a choice
I'd rather live in the dark with you
than try to forget what it feels like to be
wrapped in your arms.
Literature
Little Hours
At midnight we said goodbye.
At two we said goodnight
And turned our phones off.
At three I missed you terribly.
At four you were asleep
Dreaming of me.
At five I broke down.
At six I paid my money
For the only thing I ever loved.
At seven I shot up again.
At eight I was in a wonderland
And you were innocent of my crime.
At nine I started coming down.
At ten I was shaking
And there was still some left.
At eleven I did it one more time.
At twelve I did it one last time
And you were just waking up.
At midnight we said goodbye.
By noon I was gone
And you were all alone.
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