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hxney-bunny
hxney-bunny
Spain
You said my tears didn't taste salty and I wanted to say that was because I was drowning all of our memories down my face. But you know, that's not something that can fit in a mouth, I couldn't imagine my tongue pronouncing those words, there is no sound for those thoughts. That's something you can read in a note on a table, in a public toilet wall, and it sound tragically beautiful and maybe you'd take a picture and post it in your social media sharing the story of some strangers. Althought it's totally different when you feel those tears falling down in rivers, in columns of sweets memories and happy days, but I couldn't say that it would make everyting harder. And now we're looking at each other and inside of me there's a lagoon of the things that couldn't be said and the memories that couldn't be sweet, I realize I'm really sunken in my own narrative.
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Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
Sweet or salty
There were the bubbles that are born when someone open up a can of coke but then I looked at you and you were crying, mumbling an excuse, a "sorry I was really sad too" a "I don't know why I did that". But it's always too late, there is no bubbles now just the liquid coke, without gas you know that noboby likes it like that, and I'm also deaf, for all your words and sounds I just watch you, like far far away, like if I were the bubble that have not born yet, and I pray for the can, I want it to be impossible to open, because I like the efervescence of the begining but I'm terrified of the final taste.
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Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
Bubbles
She's made of sunshine and I'd never forget the first time I saw her shine, she illuminates everything, even me. I feel warm around her and when she hold me I'm a kaleidoscope of sunshine, I hope I never forget. The most beautiful part: I know I can live without her I'll be good, but I prefer my sun close now that I have a photosynthetic heart.
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May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
Sunshine
I wish I know you the way I know every freckle of my sweater, I whish you want to know me too because it's cold and the sweater have holes and I'm starting to question my own knowledge, I didn't remeber the sleeves where that short.
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
Untitled
My childhood was a sunflower it has moved following the sun, the light, the brightness, it has moved. Then it came the night, I died everytime the moon owns the sky. Then again I was reborn, alive, with seeds, with petals, with leaves with sedds, with hope, with hapiness. Wish I had grab my roots better at the ferm ground now that my last sight it's only dust.
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
Untitled
I wish we share the room someday, we'll share our breathe, our blink, I hope someday you impregante me of the art you are wrapped into because now I'm just a black hole of nothing because I'm surrounded by the meaning of the words I've never said and I really wanted to. I hope someday you look at me like I think I'd look at you if you were here now, I'm not like in love with you, maybe I am, I really don't know how to feel or even what I'm feeling because the universe have eaten me alive I couldn't remember if it was yerterday o two thousand years ago. I'm sorry for this mess I hope we can live with it in that room.
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Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC
Untitled
My father is a traitor of the sacred promise he made to us. I mean he didn't harm us on tradditional ways, maybe the modern pain is worse, maybe we'll be in pain forever. My mother is a leader of the chaos our lifes have become. I don't remeber when we didn't organise every step we made, because we are afraid of falling into the deep space of our feelings. My sister is a fighter, protecting us for becoming nothing, fighting with my darkness even if it invades all of our room. I don't know who I am, I don't know if I'm the enemy everyone tries to warning me about, I live in that chaos, on that pain, on that darkness, I became that, an spiral of little destruction. I become the witch in that story with a costume of observer because I'm just to paralised to show them the inside, of the darkness that'd  eat us alive.
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Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 5:37 AM UTC
Untitled
We may not be perfect just as somebody else we're the ones that know that everything has an end. Now I'm on my knees praying to a God that I don't think exists, praying fot the mistaken butterflies for the fragility of their wings. Praying for them in this wild world wondering if someone is praying for me. I know the world is full of sensations and feelings so I'll let the roots fill me and make an armor around my limbs. I hope someone is praying for the tree girl the girl who is made of dust and pollen. I hope they believe in me because I know things about the end of everything, about the imperfections and the end of the world, the one that make me alive.
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Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
The tree girl
A constellation of sadness fill the sky this night was that just a star or a shiny tear? We may never know have we ever cared?
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May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
Sad sky
Stop watering roses thinking they'll be daisies thorns have its own beauty. Treat roses like  tough ones, dirt and darkness has reach their roots I hope you won't expect a colourful bloom. Stop watering roses thinking they'll be red there a so many roses for every life, even dead. Stop watering roses they're all in bed today there are people who mistreat them and now they're watering with regret.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:55 AM UTC
Watering roses