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Literature Text
Wondering how to
Render up our
Imagination to a point
That can never return
Exactly to this time.
Opening up our
Understanding of
Returning home.
Living in a world
Imitating the
Vast variety
Each other person
Saves to keep.
Render up our
Imagination to a point
That can never return
Exactly to this time.
Opening up our
Understanding of
Returning home.
Living in a world
Imitating the
Vast variety
Each other person
Saves to keep.
Literature
Escrtito #2 que te dedico.
Ya mi mente envenenada con tu persona ni siquiera puede recordar la razón del por qué estos sentimientos tan destructivos que siento por ti. Ni siquiera sé si tienen sentido mis palabras, cuando hablo de ti me siento como una loca enjaula. Mi locura es el amor que me provocas y mi jaula el deseo que no sacio. Me siento como una estúpida porque me tienes a tus pies y lo sabes, lo sabes porque mi actitud incontrolable te lo demostró. Hay algo que si recuerdo, aquel primer día de clases, aquel sol de 8am que encendía tu pelo color caramelo, aquella mirada profunda atrapada en el vidrio de tus lentes, las vuelta
Literature
The Journey
Beneath my skin, my veins pulse with desire
To know why I am here.
As I journey to find the answers to life,
I sail through the monotonous seas
That stretch forever beyond the horizon.
As my ship sails towards the dry land,
Mountains tower before me,
Filling me with both awe and intimidation.
But the mountains are eroding as time passes by,
Into merely fragments of what they once were.
I move my eyes and watch the glaciers
Melt slowly into rivers.
But even though they disappear,
They melt to provide water for all life on this planet.
You could say rivers are created by glaciers for a purpose.
I ponder those mountains and glac
Literature
Why I stay
1.
every day you wake me
with a gentleness
I did not know you possessed
every day
you are waiting at the door
like clockwork,
stamping your feet
on the frozen ground,
smiling grimly
with your bone white teeth
2.
there is a restlessness going around,
something I think
borne of this winter air
I am filled with a longing
not lustful, nor painful,
but rather like a constant
pulling
from every direction
3.
as if the particles themselves
that compose my body
are becoming detached
tired of the tension, the constant
push to shove
necessary
to deserve your love
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I don’t know. Another thoughtless acrostic.
2.17.14
2.17.14
© 2014 - 2024 LMW-The-Poet
Comments5
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the meaning is great!