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Literature Text
To be a book
would be the most glorious thing of all;
for a true reader
loves a book like they love their souls
In my lonesome waking hours
or during the silence under the covers
I am as sad and as lonely
as a book without a reader
I've tried to read the others
but I found it much too hard
for just when I get interested
in the winding story line
they get up and leave
and they never tell me why
for I am a book with no reader
to cradle me closely
even though I'm torn
and frayed
And though others have read my pages
none of them have stayed.
Some have taken pages,
others took chapters
a few wrote their names
on the front cover of my heart
in permanent ink
never to depart.
During the sunlit hours
I will smile and laugh and sing
but only to hide
these lonesome bones
that sigh and crack with doubt
For I have gotten so deliciously deceiving
at being happy
that I no longer know the difference
between when I'm telling tales
and when my heart thunders with radiance
I long for that reader
to wonder wide-eyed at my stories
no matter how tangled they may be
I long for them to stitch torn seams
to brush their fingers along my spine;
but no-one's heard of me
And as I watch my friends go off
with their lovers and their loved
I noticed some were read thoroughly
others that were not
But I am a book with no reader
The saddest life there is;
longing to be lonely
with someone other than me.
Literature
handle with care
there are 206 bones in the
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
but now,
i think we're more like
bombshel
Literature
LokixReader Colour My Life ~Prolouge~
LokixReader Prolouge
To say your day had been “not ideal” would probably be the biggest understatement of the week. After finally finding a job through several torturous months of interviewing you had landed a position working as an assistant in a Mecha Tech. company. Of course, the first thing you do is get lost in the city. After an hour or so of cursing the long alleyways and confusing streets in New York you managed to find your new work place. You spent the rest of the say being bossed around unceremoniously. The appeal of the job was low. Very low. But, you mused that with today’s economy you were lucky to eve
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Is it just me, or does anybody else feel like those books in the library that nobody's heard of and nobody's read
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Comments7
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This is so beautiful! 