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glassea Feb 2016
lights and dreams float
beneath her feet

as she watches
the boats and bridges,

as she breathes
air heavy with life

no wind can shake
this skyscraper alive

and stars cannot take
this city from the earth

nor its people
from the ground
loosely based off of something i've been working on for a while. i probably won't post it here because it has literally nothing to do with this kind of writing.
glassea Feb 2016
i'm a firework disaster
a monstrous tragedy

an essence of all the things
you hoped you'd never be

and i made myself this way
in the name of revenge

because of what you
did and didn't do
glassea Feb 2016
"and you really think
that i will let you
take this from me?

"i may not be mine,
but i'm sure as hell
not yours."
this was written last may. jeez.
...does this even count as poetry? I don't think it does.
glassea Jan 2016
the moon knows.

she has seen countless confessions in her light, watched life and death alike, and judged none of it. the moon is the one who will not whisper your secrets to the stars. she is just a reflection, after all. limited by her existence.

the sun is the one who will betray you, will turn his back on you, will scream everything you've done to everyone awake to hear. the sun shines and does not care if you burn beneath him.

the moon does not care, either, but she is not vindictive, and for that, we tell her things the sun will never know.

didn't anyone tell you that the moon can keep a secret?

she is not the sun.
i have a lot of feelings about the sun and the moon and i'm still working on getting them down.
glassea Jan 2016
sometimes i find myself confused
knowing that however much we speak
(however much i say i love you)
i will never know you as well as i do
raskolnikov, darl, hamlet, thoreau.

because i cannot read your thoughts
but i can read theirs.
oh, i can read theirs.
glassea Jan 2016
take care, my dear,
that you do not underestimate a hurricane
if it wears human skin.
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