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Literature Text
This cheap vodka burns
my tongue a lot less than the
taste of your name does
my tongue a lot less than the
taste of your name does
Literature
lunaura
oh, you small, silver darling,
moonlight's child, oh-so-starving,
your fingernails are just like
the frost covering the treetops
this time of year.
the wind makes you shiver,
shaking the branches
and your limbs
and making you wonder
what brought you outside
in the first place.
Literature
yearbook signatures
oh, it's love in sequence;
scripted vine of names.
when it's evening,
reason with the phantoms
and wash my hair
with shame.
color in the constellations,
freckles disparate chained.
is this grieving?
crossing out my failures
and inking skin
with rain.
oh there's not much more to say, love.
i destroy more than create.
i am freezing
don't you dare to touch me;
i'll only bring
you pain.
Literature
21.15 Mnemonics
He awoke to sunlight in his eyes and the smell of her. Every day, he would stay in bed just a little bit longer than he ought to, just to bask in the glory of smell she had left behind. It was roses and mint and sandalwood and woman and a million other things he couldn’t have described, even if he tried, but it was her, and he would never forget it, as long as he lived, and probably not for a long time after he died.
But every day, the smell grew fainter, the sheets seemed to grow colder, and it was one more day since the last time he woke with her actually there.
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I 100% feel this. Like god damn this hurt to read. Very powerful <3