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Literature Text
You will climb and mount his lips and taste every syllable of his words just to find a space where you could fit in; you will press your fingers onto symphonies of black and white cacophonous outrage just because your mind is a cosmic explosion and a catastrophic cyclop. You're a shipwreck that crushes yourself into graveyards and you cry yourself into a smudged mascara and glassy eyed mess just to hope for one day you'll justify your existence without hurting yourself anymore. And when your tornado eyes come gushing down in watershed tears at every nightfall, you will climb behind brick walls and tear stained diaries and cry and blame the world and demand an ocean of apologies.
Even so, the world will only give you silence. I'm sorry the war had not ended for you. I'm sorry you had to cry in asphalt dust and gun fire smoke. I'm sorry you're suffocated in liquor fumes because nobody knows you're flammable and nobody knows you're burning in wildfire and choking with supernovas crashing onto your ribs when your world wilts into shadows and diminishes in empty laughter.
But please do not give up. Do not give up. Do not give up. Do not give up.
They will point guns onto your heart and fire three times. Do not let them cross your uncharted territory.
1. Fight.
2. Run Away.
3. Do whatever the hell you need to to stay alive.
Insist to never let them burn your tongue in synchronized propaganda. Insist to never give in to bloody knuckles and purple lips. Insist to breath even though your lungs are tainted in black stale air. Insist that you're still a warrior with glass shards heart and paper skin and you will still fight even when your ribs get burnt and your heart grows thorns. Insist you're strong like a god damn ocean squall.
Even so, the world will only give you silence. I'm sorry the war had not ended for you. I'm sorry you had to cry in asphalt dust and gun fire smoke. I'm sorry you're suffocated in liquor fumes because nobody knows you're flammable and nobody knows you're burning in wildfire and choking with supernovas crashing onto your ribs when your world wilts into shadows and diminishes in empty laughter.
But please do not give up. Do not give up. Do not give up. Do not give up.
They will point guns onto your heart and fire three times. Do not let them cross your uncharted territory.
1. Fight.
2. Run Away.
3. Do whatever the hell you need to to stay alive.
Insist to never let them burn your tongue in synchronized propaganda. Insist to never give in to bloody knuckles and purple lips. Insist to breath even though your lungs are tainted in black stale air. Insist that you're still a warrior with glass shards heart and paper skin and you will still fight even when your ribs get burnt and your heart grows thorns. Insist you're strong like a god damn ocean squall.
(G.L)
-To you with glass shard heart and paper skin.
-To you with glass shard heart and paper skin.
Literature
glass bones and paper skin
She had always been a smidgen short
of something whole and he was never
broken to begin with.
Except sometimes they sort of were
entirely, irreparably, miserably, broken.
Where are you going?
Where are you going, where I can't follow?
And that, she finds for all of her brilliance and prodigal logic,
is something she couldn't answer.
It sort of scares her, a little,
when she thinks about it at night.
Especially when there's no one to see her,
and the only thing that touches her
is the inky darkness of her room.
Other things scare her too.
The thought of her name sprawled across a grave,
broken beyond repair. Yet, he is her line to
Literature
Skin.
I love the way life leaves its mark on our bodies.
Every laugh and smile etched in the crinkles around your eyes and mouth;
Those tan-lines the time you forgot about sunscreen
Because you were so hell-bent on reaching that mountain peak
Or when you just became lost in the gentle lap of waves at the shore;
The scars you got skateboarding in the park at summer dusk
Or when life became pain and it was your only release.
Our bodies are a record of our memories and experiences
They are our travel journals and emotional diaries
Our delicate armour to the elements.
And no matter its colour, its stature, if it's not quite intact
If you sometimes t
Literature
your eyes shine more than valentine glitter.
and it seems we're back to where
we started starlight symphonies,
not quite touching but gravity will
bend us together
moonlight sonatas light the room but
it's actually just the tv screen and
i scream inside, it comes out as a sigh
as i curl into your pillow
your eyes were never meant to be traps
but i'm a klutz and i trip, i tried, i trickle
love in the form of coffee caffeine and
you hate the taste
and god, i am just so in love with you.
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I dedicate this to anyone who cries his or her lungs out at night. To anyone who felt lonely in their darkest time and felt like a total mess when everything doesn't seem right. You will get through this. 
I haven't been posting for quite some times, I'm sorry if it seemed awkward.
Thank you so much for browsing, feel free to leave comments, and have a lovely day!
I haven't been posting for quite some times, I'm sorry if it seemed awkward.
Thank you so much for browsing, feel free to leave comments, and have a lovely day!
© 2014 - 2024 Milk-and-Pie
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Oh my goodness I just need to say that your work is amazing! Ive been looking through your gallery and noticed that you write such deep, meaningful messages...it's honestly some of the best writing I've ever read. You are a true poet/writer/author. whichever suits you best, you have earned yourself a watch from me! Keep up the good work! ^-^