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Literature Text
Some memories I hold dear
No matter what came after -
The pain, the loss,
The suffocating feeling of
Helplessness in loneliness -
No storm that followed can take away
The calm of these moments:
The german cowboy's songs, cracked
And drawn through the mangle
Of a once new record player,
The scent and light of tall white candles,
Long legs stretched out beneath my own,
Strong arms holding my small body;
I rested on Atlas' lap
And all of this,
It was enough.
No matter what came after -
The pain, the loss,
The suffocating feeling of
Helplessness in loneliness -
No storm that followed can take away
The calm of these moments:
The german cowboy's songs, cracked
And drawn through the mangle
Of a once new record player,
The scent and light of tall white candles,
Long legs stretched out beneath my own,
Strong arms holding my small body;
I rested on Atlas' lap
And all of this,
It was enough.
Literature
...
fine then, just leave me alone
let me rot in this "shithole" existence
you don't like it?
well it's none of your business
try to turn me around
put me on "the right path"?
it won't work
you haven't experienced such wrath
and then experienced the everlasting calm
but you'll never understand
all you know is the bad
all you remember is sad
i'm sorry you felt the need to cut me off
it's a real shame
and you weren't even involved
as if our friendship was a game
well i miss your friendship
you hurt me just as badly
as the one you criticize
still, i would renew our bond, gladly
if you weren't this way or that
stubborn, hard headed
just open you
Literature
Absence
there is snow all around
and we have invited you in
but silence falls like night
and the winds carry no sound
I remember; it was by the river
when you carried me on your shoulders
I covered your eyes with my hands
and there was laughter
It was in the woods, I remember
you taught me to ski
it was getting dark already
and there was still a long way to go
and yet there was no rush
and we talked about the stars
I remember; It was by the sea
already after everything changed
on a cold day still full of joy
when we were all brought together;
there were few words, even then
but we could still see the shine
and the pride in your eyes
as I took h
Literature
in the box
is a brain, removed from shell
disconnected
from signal wires. still viable (?)
maybe.
blue teeth and instant grams
and gallons of conceit;
our granular portrait no longer flatters
unless dull spots and imperfections are rendered
out in the wash--
we mask and filter, ask and answer,
bask in banter
understanding no one ever even thinks
to change the thought they've already had.
old news, rotten
if revisited. inquisitive
minds have nothing better to do
but second guess assumptions,
better than first-blush conundrums
that don't fit the formula we've written
for how the world works;
it's absurd to think
this is where our
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For years I've been raging against my father and growing bitter with resentment. I suppose the key to forgiveness lies in remembering moments like these, and that I felt loved once.
© 2014 - 2024 AnotherNamelessOne
Comments2
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I really like the second half of this and the simplicity of the final lines:
"And all of this,
It was enough."
"And all of this,
It was enough."