literature

Sordid Somewheres

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creativelycliche's avatar
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Literature Text

shallow summers slid from sallow fingers
sticky like the wax the trees lay low,
for all this self-destruction (sordid somewheres)
we fail to follow through with something strong.

I've never found the sunset bittersweet when I was happy
or the sunrise full of hope when I was not;
(are we born with something missing or
do we learn to want and lose when we grow up?)

fixing concrete shelters takes a little more than sticky fingers
like things that make the sunset start to crawl
the longest days are ones I wish that I'd forgotten
(the shortest are the ones I don't remember; selling songs)

(can we just take each other and forget
what haunts my soul
can you just give me one moment
to fold the map a little more)

or should I try to lose what I've been keeping
this nothing-not that's stopping me from
breathing
just try to halt my heart's incessant beating
and find release in losing this facade.
This poem spawned from a single sentence in the novel I'm writing this month for camp nanowrimo. True story.
© 2012 - 2024 creativelycliche
Comments3
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tiajones's avatar
uhm. this is ridiculously beautiful. which is probably why no one has been able to comment.

we're all speechless.

so i'm just going to add this to my favorites now.

yeah. okay.