ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
we will drown of course,
because that's how all the true romantics die.
once we're terribly old, too terribly old to swim,
we will buy a boat.
a canoe, we will take it out in a
storm
and learn to breathe all over again,
u n d e r w a t e r .
we will paddle out to the middle of the
shaking lake,
and rock the boat
(we seem to have made that a habit)
until it tips us into
our very own
reflected
n e v a e h
we will tread on the moon
only long enough for this last catharsis
to finish draining us of heat and
hurt
once we're terribly old
we will buy a boat.
because you've always wanted
a boat.
because that's how all the true romantics die.
once we're terribly old, too terribly old to swim,
we will buy a boat.
a canoe, we will take it out in a
storm
and learn to breathe all over again,
u n d e r w a t e r .
we will paddle out to the middle of the
shaking lake,
and rock the boat
(we seem to have made that a habit)
until it tips us into
our very own
reflected
n e v a e h
we will tread on the moon
only long enough for this last catharsis
to finish draining us of heat and
hurt
once we're terribly old
we will buy a boat.
because you've always wanted
a boat.
Literature
i.
1. They tell me you had a story once, but sometimes
I find that hard to believe. When you call me now
in the middle of the night, your voice dipped in
panic and uncertainty, you tell me you're dying,
you're drowning, you're burning alive. I comfort you.
But in the morning, I delete your call from my
cell phone, and pretend you never were.
2. Sometimes you're a rain cloud, a crushed cigarette,
the soft glow of light seeping through my blinds.
Sometimes you're my nightmares, but part of me likes
to be afraid. Sometimes you are all I have, the hand
in mine, the lips on my neck, the edge of desire and
comfort and life. Some
Literature
Belonging.
crushed antlers and pierced wings
your palms dirtied over my spine
you sat on the hood of my car
a cigarette trapped between your teeth
and i turned on my windshield wipers
as i pulled out of park
and you smirked
'he hurt you.'
'so did everyone else.'
'but not like he did.'
your gaze lingers on my heart without sadness.
my nails in your wrist
and the way you laugh on the couch
i sat on the edge of your bed
a pencil soft behind your ear
and you turned on jazz music
as you pulled out my notebook
and i smirked
'fuck.'
and your brilliant smile wakes mine still.
Literature
i quit making wishes for you
"charlie?"
"hm?"
"do you ever make wishes like a normal girl?"
"what do you mean?"
"i mean...do you ever fling your wishes to the stars, stop the clock on repeated numbers, pluck your eyelashes out with numb fingers...that sort of thing?"
"you think it's normal to be so obsessed with happy endings that scientists had to create an eyelash-growing formula for the world's love-struck teenage girls?"
"well...maybe. don't you?"
"no. i think the world forgot the point of making wishes years ago."
"oh. so what is the point?"
"it's knowing you're bound to be disappointed, because wishes go unheard and saying
Suggested Collections
Uhm, so.
I wrote this.
It's not my best.
I realize that.
I wrote this.
It's not my best.
I realize that.
© 2010 - 2024 londonrey
Comments81
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
The first two lines are so beautiful.