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Literature Text
this bitter taste in my mouth—
it's a dying fire,
and the ashes are lingering on my tongue.
i wake up each morning with shadows beneath my eyes.
dark bruises that hide everything with a flourish
yet reveal all to anyone who looks close enough.
the girl in the mirror is my enemy;
her smile isn't all there and
it is painted like a doll's, but not nearly
as beautiful and enchanting.
sometimes,
i get the feeling that if i clench my fists tight enough,
time will stop.
but i know the gears of the clock that is wedged painfully
inside of my rib cage will continue to grind slowly and
sluggishly, because while i am not as broken as i once was i am
(and i never will be) forever whole again.
it's a dying fire,
and the ashes are lingering on my tongue.
i wake up each morning with shadows beneath my eyes.
dark bruises that hide everything with a flourish
yet reveal all to anyone who looks close enough.
the girl in the mirror is my enemy;
her smile isn't all there and
it is painted like a doll's, but not nearly
as beautiful and enchanting.
sometimes,
i get the feeling that if i clench my fists tight enough,
time will stop.
but i know the gears of the clock that is wedged painfully
inside of my rib cage will continue to grind slowly and
sluggishly, because while i am not as broken as i once was i am
(and i never will be) forever whole again.
Literature
FFM 2016 6: Birds Bring the Rain
They ran through the rice field, crops crunching golden underneath their bare feet, Lucia bounding ahead like she always did.
“Wait!” Mateo gasped. “Listen! I. Need. To. Show. You. Something!” He tried grasping her saya, but it slipped out of his fist like buttery silk.
The sun on her shoulder, Lucia stood on the crest of the hill and looked down at him. By the time he reached her, her black eyes gleamed with starry glitter.
“What is it you wish to show me? Is it a new game for us?”
The stars twinkled.
“So you see, at the current state of things, weather at the archipelago is not exactly optimal.
Literature
i hear the thunder rolling in
sweet smell of cut grass floating through the window,
soft sound of cars passing by
and distant music pumping through speakers
strong and quick, the backbone of the wind,
carrying voices and laughter from three floors down;
and i can't see it but i imagine the way the world is turning,
churning, people moving like ants -
so insignificant but so significant to me, a nail in the coffin
of the universe and the a holy grail of what is yet to come.
hot tea and beeping microwaves frame the day
and soft blankets whisper gently over bedsheets,
sleep-time now, phones down eyes closed,
take a moment to lose yourself in the
beauty of the day
(sun
Literature
For You
I made a mess of myself just for you.
I did the one thing I said I wouldn't, for you.
I'm letting this blade be a guest in my chest for you.
I'm willing to wait for you, when I had the intention before of waiting for no one.
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