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Literature Text
Marie Antoinette
They gave me shoes, velvet heels that spun like windmills,
dribbles of satin, laces gossamer as imagined spider threads.
They designed me shoes to be orchids, bees drowsed around my feet. I give them names.
But they took my language, words shaped in my own tongue,
familiar as milk and bed.
The language they gave me, I never exactly knew what the words meant.
I pouted, smiled, fluttered my eyelashes until they were hummingbirds.
They murmured of people starving, bakeries hollow of flour,
echoes of the rights of the man. But they said not to worry. Silly things.
So we dressed as shepherdess, lambs washed until they were pillows.
Our crooks hooked the sun. They gave me extravagant pastries,
almond, cherry palaces in my mouth. I could not shape the names.
Then they showed me the cards that were circulating of me, the crowds howled when they saw them.
My face was a false moon on some other body.
This body was on all fours, someone thrusting inside into it.
I heard other words "wanton", "capricious", "strumpet" & "whore".
So when they hacked my neck, blade falling a descending swallow,
I realized I finally understood this language.
They gave me shoes, velvet heels that spun like windmills,
dribbles of satin, laces gossamer as imagined spider threads.
They designed me shoes to be orchids, bees drowsed around my feet. I give them names.
But they took my language, words shaped in my own tongue,
familiar as milk and bed.
The language they gave me, I never exactly knew what the words meant.
I pouted, smiled, fluttered my eyelashes until they were hummingbirds.
They murmured of people starving, bakeries hollow of flour,
echoes of the rights of the man. But they said not to worry. Silly things.
So we dressed as shepherdess, lambs washed until they were pillows.
Our crooks hooked the sun. They gave me extravagant pastries,
almond, cherry palaces in my mouth. I could not shape the names.
Then they showed me the cards that were circulating of me, the crowds howled when they saw them.
My face was a false moon on some other body.
This body was on all fours, someone thrusting inside into it.
I heard other words "wanton", "capricious", "strumpet" & "whore".
So when they hacked my neck, blade falling a descending swallow,
I realized I finally understood this language.
Literature
Fate be damned.
personally,
i can’t see myself with
the milky way embedded in my
bones, much less my heart. it
sure would be nice to wish upon a
star for our happy ending, but i think
my prince charming just
sees through
me.
i am a phantom
with wanderlust
stitched into my
lips and rose petals
inked into my skin.
these galaxy-fearing
bones would like to
whisper “i love you”
in every language of
the world,
because fate may
not exist and it’s
high time i form
my own destiny.
Literature
the nevergirl
you didn't believe in growing
up or growing old with someone
because you always confessed it
would be so much more magical
to stay young with them forever
you had the map of neverland
branded in your bones and
sometimes i swear i could hear
those little lost boys howling
and running through your spine
i cried the day you realized
peter wasn't coming and that
you would never learn how to
fly but let's face it, staying
young was never apart of the plan
but you found a way to not
grow up and i wish you hadn't
because now you are a shadow,
never growing and leaving every
night just because something else
wasn't bright enough for you
Literature
momentary
(so this is looking back
to follow bloody feet)
shadows and mirrors
make for bad reflections,
but cracks can only be covered over,
not healed -
glass can only shatter.
these aren't scratches,
even though
they're just a phase
(two), phase three
is fading,
and -
(I remember
what the edge of a cliff
feels like.)
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Comments54
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Tasty, real, and moving. A beautiful swirl of confusion followed by tragedy! I don't often read the literature here, but this one, I'm glad I stopped to read.