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jonathan-mcneill
jonathan-mcneill
American Write, Write, Write. Similar to "Gym, Tan, Laundry," but with a different aftertaste
I look down: Control sinks away with every drop of sweat Beading together slowly, tickling my face And reminding me what loss is Surely soon this will be over And I will fight for her no longer Her full form still reminds me Of a task I must complete You are beautiful, I confess Lies now seem to ease her less A word devoid of meaning A joke told too many times She smiles politely And as I look down at her I feel my heart begin to tickle my face And almost purely out of instinct, I look away, to save myself
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Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
Shelves Pt. 2
Velcro-like hands Grip and pull At every thread of his textile presence As a spider clings to her silky haven in the rain With every tear she grows less stable And every shudder draws hopes of Heaven Past this haven, in the tree branch, that she built her life upon And the web; it softly whispers It is trapped in finite murmur Once high hopes of hereafter, embroider fears that she “was once” In the rain, she is suspended Thoughts thieved away by daydream Her mind drifts back to sunny lives And her Velcro-like grasp Loosens Just a little.
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Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
Velcro