ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
my dear petunia,
your hair smells like flamingo shit.
you were six days showerless
on saturday
and you said to me
"life is just a big merry go 'round"
as you squeezed me saltily.
you're the reason that seasons change ...
you're my mother's pot of peonies from home depot,
packaged and pretty,
the ones that turned
periwinkle to piss-brown
on the first day in our garden.
petunia, you're my plastic cherrypie,
price-tag perfect
ponies and carousels,
penny-for-a-pop,
my cheap perfume paradise;
you're
pesticides and jazz, poor
peasant-princess with papillon
blush and peach-puke thighs,
pout, pout, sigh,
plaster horses in your disneyland eyes
i love you i cry,
petunia mine.
your hair smells like flamingo shit.
you were six days showerless
on saturday
and you said to me
"life is just a big merry go 'round"
as you squeezed me saltily.
you're the reason that seasons change ...
you're my mother's pot of peonies from home depot,
packaged and pretty,
the ones that turned
periwinkle to piss-brown
on the first day in our garden.
petunia, you're my plastic cherrypie,
price-tag perfect
ponies and carousels,
penny-for-a-pop,
my cheap perfume paradise;
you're
pesticides and jazz, poor
peasant-princess with papillon
blush and peach-puke thighs,
pout, pout, sigh,
plaster horses in your disneyland eyes
i love you i cry,
petunia mine.
Literature
You can't have it all
but you can have the glazed heat bursting from the blacktop like a broken
fire hydrant. You can have the jangle of keys
swinging from your hip with each stride.
You can have the tactility of leather and the graze of
bathroom mosaic tiles under a cold shower pelting
bullets and when the water cuts off
you can have dry book pages. You can have happiness,
though it will often be bitter, like finding a stranger’s
wallet full of pictures of smiling children until you
return it to find that the couple is barren.
You can have the scratches on the back of his knuckles,
faded, yet raw. You can have the translucency of sheets
in the sun, silhoue
Literature
resonance
i
does she know the astrological significance
of the bruises starring along
your wrists? if I could, I’d
run away somewhere where
the sky is silent and the people
hate honest eyes. here’s my problem,
I’ve wasted all my time daydreaming
in the universe of your scars. I wonder
if substantiality is lethal.
ii
[when will you move on
like you know what
you’re doing with your life,
like this tiny existential
failure is only a hazard sign
on the roadmap of your journey,
like the world weighing down
upon your shoulders is an
exercise in vanity and quietude
instead of someone
else’s burden?]
iii
lists of necessitie
Literature
tense shifts
and here's the first letter:
there are some things in life you can't escape.
the feeling of his fingers entwined in yours,
for example,
and maybe the way the wind blows on your ears lightly,
teasing teasing teasing because it knows
you blush when your cheeks get cold and the tip of your nose goes red
and it knows
he's going to have to give it a kiss to warm it up
(also because he can't stand how adorable it looks).
she thinks that maybe there ought to be a coffee shop on this corner-
she tells him so, with a wide sweeping gesture that
knocks her scarf into his eyes
and he wears it like a mask and smiles-
but on the other hand, maybe not;
it
Suggested Collections
love poems make me want to puke
2/23/13
© 2014 - 2024 Spellspeaker
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Line 2: Priceless