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Literature Text
slur of tides, jostled noise
dark oceans warped by touch
and not the snow
white blanket disappearing,
but you: silver, brilliant-
the hint of breathing
and the depths below,
your whirring heart
dark oceans warped by touch
and not the snow
white blanket disappearing,
but you: silver, brilliant-
the hint of breathing
and the depths below,
your whirring heart
Literature
no room
I am so full of me
there is no room
for you in here.
You can be out
there, alongside me,
but there is no room in here.
The hotel is full.
I am the Anna Madrigal
of my own soul.
So you be you
and I will be me.
If there is connection,
I will cherish it.
If there is not,
I will not miss it.
This does not diminish
my love and devotion,
nor your own to me.
It just makes it real.
Literature
lonely
figure 1 . — ISOLATION .
a girl screams into a sea of people who love her,
but nobody turns nobody looks nobody listens
a girl screams into a sea of people,
but they don't really love her
a girl screams into a sea,
the sea,
a girl screams into
a girl
and thinks it is the same thing.
figure 2. — GRIEF .
sometimes, i think i am a ro
Literature
snowglobe
we hoped it would get bad enough to break glass
that one of our voices
would find the note
to split the window
make a neighbour call the cops
that the dishes would shatter
into too many pieces
to be picked off the floor
we wanted glass in our heels
a trickle of heat
a flicker of colour
in the sun-blank snow
the pines leaned on our doorframe
we waited for them
to pressure in and unfurl
shower our stunned faces
in a rain of needles
knock the teapot off the table
in a blossom of shards
but the trees stood by
evergreen and identical
the same dream of pine repeating
behind yellowing plastic
we painted shut the door
with smi
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Comments7
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but why does it feel like the receding of winter and not the onset?