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Literature Text
I am writing to let you know that
your name died on the shred of
my tongue yesterday evening,
suddenly, with the first breeze of
an umber October. and the silk
moths spun out the threads of
their wings, the leaves turned, the
day your face was buried somewhere
deep under the mulch of a maple
cemetery, I saw a honey moon drip
pale in the azure sky, the sun red
read my poems, burned every mention
of your hands or your eyes or your
mouth. I spent a funerary moment,
curled in a furnace of pumpkin bonfires
and hedgehog secrets, they whispered
your name when the clock chimes
carried your coffin into the distance of
a forgotten summer, I can’t recall where
I met you, your hands, your eyes, your
mouth, I have learned to write without
you, and found new life in your absence.
your name died on the shred of
my tongue yesterday evening,
suddenly, with the first breeze of
an umber October. and the silk
moths spun out the threads of
their wings, the leaves turned, the
day your face was buried somewhere
deep under the mulch of a maple
cemetery, I saw a honey moon drip
pale in the azure sky, the sun red
read my poems, burned every mention
of your hands or your eyes or your
mouth. I spent a funerary moment,
curled in a furnace of pumpkin bonfires
and hedgehog secrets, they whispered
your name when the clock chimes
carried your coffin into the distance of
a forgotten summer, I can’t recall where
I met you, your hands, your eyes, your
mouth, I have learned to write without
you, and found new life in your absence.
Literature
plague-bodied
i am a body of rat bones,
a post-panic attack,
(muscle) memory to
fester - the travesty
& specter, spectacle
in gold boots, bloody nose,
cut-throat.
& don't you
dare touch me;
i am eight months into dying.
Literature
.
he has the
rings of
Saturn
inside his
helix, dust
of the
cosmos in
his palm and
galaxies
between his
vertebrae,
but he is dangerous.
he holds the power
to break souls and
rip stars from the
heavens, and so
i run away from
all the universe i
have ever known.
(i would say i'm sorry but
that would be a lie my darling)
Literature
.
i drank the poison
from your lips, i
dug my fingers in
the cracks
between your
ribs,
held tight: a
living vice and prayed
that we would last
the night.
(but we suffocated in
the cages of our bed covers,
cold like the surface of
the moon.)
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12/10/15
I have let go of a few friends over this past year, and now I'm finally okay with it.
Also October is my second favourite month (December is my fave because it has my birthday
) and I'm already way too excited for Halloween 
I have let go of a few friends over this past year, and now I'm finally okay with it.
Also October is my second favourite month (December is my fave because it has my birthday
) and I'm already way too excited for Halloween © 2015 - 2024 comatose-comet
Comments11
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Letting go is hard... I can relate. Since last May I've been trying to let go but it's proven to be difficult.
Took me a while to read this! (Cleaning out my inbox).
Always a pleasure reading your work.
Took me a while to read this! (Cleaning out my inbox).
Always a pleasure reading your work.