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Literature Text
My army of teddy bears.
Their cuteness fooling many.
A duty to shield me from my nightmares.
When my eyes start getting heavy.
My soft defenders always by my side.
Nothing gets by them, 'cause they're always ready.
Their cuteness fooling many.
A duty to shield me from my nightmares.
When my eyes start getting heavy.
My soft defenders always by my side.
Nothing gets by them, 'cause they're always ready.
Literature
A Photographic Dream
The faded black and white photograph sits idly on the vanity. My exact likeness stares out at me from within the flowered frame. We stare at each other, admiring the intricate feature we share. She seems to understand how lucky I was to inherit such beauty from her, the ideal embodiment of femininity. A sort of arrogance glints in her eyes; her plump lips seem to smirk. Her creamy, alabaster skin glows with confident. She is aloof, to say the least. I know everything about this woman, my grandmother, as well as myself, by this photograph. I am the spitting image of her. I know that I am much more than my sorry excuse of a mother. I know t
Literature
Dreams
A caustically fabricated memory sets a spark in the first exhalation of morning (afternoon?) and she has the urge to cry.
To think that dreams -nightmares- could hold her heart with such terrible claws (but the thoughts of him hold reigns so tightly on her back; he knows many pretty women, and it's only natural to worry after the undressing, the holding hands, the crying in front of him). To think that even sleep, once repose, could beckon tears and heart-shivers and immobility.
She ponders why, all of a sudden, sleep is frightening again.
Perhaps it's the empathy of her nature. She feels heart-wrenching guilt for moments long past; sh
Literature
We Kissed...
It tasted of rainwater and warmth and something real—something alive.
It was a mistake and I can't fix it but I don't think I even want to.
It lingered on my lips like a stain and dyed my insides nervous.
It hurt me like nothing else and I can't breathe any more because I'm scared—so scared.
It was too rushed and teeth clattered and glasses brushed and why—why am I so awkward?
It felt like something rumbling under my feet and I didn't know what; but then I realised it was just me being me.
It needed to last forever because not enough things do that and maybe I want something like that (even if I deny it).
It was bitte
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Inspired by the plushies that take half the space on my sisters bed.
© 2012 - 2024 jul320
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Love this metaphor.