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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
May 23, 2014
As the suggester says, I'll Never Grow Tired by SeptemberSkies2298 does a beautiful job of capturing that unexpected flare of passion and love that can rise so unexpectedly between two people in a deep and committed relationship.
Featured by inknalcohol
Suggested by Eremitik
Literature Text
Tonight I'm going to stop you
on the porch, we'll stand toe to toe
the way we used to when
the pulse that thrummed
quick and strong through our veins
sang out our young, unbridled hope.
Our eyes will meet and,
just like the first time,
I'll take a moment to run my fingers
through your shining thoughts and
caress the sharp lines of your mind.
I'll lean forward and press my lips onto
the the flower-petal curve of your self-expression,
and that will be enough for you
to take me by the hand
and lead me up the stairs.
In the soft moonlight that filters through
the trees and our gauzy curtains
I'll unbutton your fears and slip them from your shoulders,
revealing smooth broad dreams. And,
careful not to miss a single freckle of insecurity,
I'll kiss my way down to the hollow of your throat,
where your soft-spoken tendencies
rest among unshakable beliefs.
Between the ridges of your ribs I'll count your worries
and smooth them away with my fingertips.
Over the subtle curve of your hips
I'll trace our journey, and add our prayers and plans
to the pale blue map beneath your skin.
Tonight I'll love you.
And though I've held your soul
pressed tight to mine too many times to count,
it will be just like the first time.
on the porch, we'll stand toe to toe
the way we used to when
the pulse that thrummed
quick and strong through our veins
sang out our young, unbridled hope.
Our eyes will meet and,
just like the first time,
I'll take a moment to run my fingers
through your shining thoughts and
caress the sharp lines of your mind.
I'll lean forward and press my lips onto
the the flower-petal curve of your self-expression,
and that will be enough for you
to take me by the hand
and lead me up the stairs.
In the soft moonlight that filters through
the trees and our gauzy curtains
I'll unbutton your fears and slip them from your shoulders,
revealing smooth broad dreams. And,
careful not to miss a single freckle of insecurity,
I'll kiss my way down to the hollow of your throat,
where your soft-spoken tendencies
rest among unshakable beliefs.
Between the ridges of your ribs I'll count your worries
and smooth them away with my fingertips.
Over the subtle curve of your hips
I'll trace our journey, and add our prayers and plans
to the pale blue map beneath your skin.
Tonight I'll love you.
And though I've held your soul
pressed tight to mine too many times to count,
it will be just like the first time.
Literature
the flower club
dear preacher,
i've got something to admit
last sunday
i was in the field
i was watching the flowers get dressed
well they're just so pretty naked
petals tucked into their sides
and watching them unfold
i was watching them pull down the sunrise
and put it on themselves
so i'm a sinner for it
cause i watched them bathe, too
stand around together in the shower
a hundred ladies in their beautiful skins
pink small ones
big blue proud ones
letting the droplets collect and residue
on their finery and shamelessly bare leaves
well that's my confession preacher
i watch the flowers strip and tease
Literature
To depression, for creating days without end
Wake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those qui
Literature
tonight i am old again
tomorrow morning i will be
two again and scared of the shadows.
i will be two again and i will not
look out the window unless you are
holding my hand,
i will be two again and my father will
be the biggest man on earth again
but tonight i am eighteen, i am
eighteen, i am
holding the world in my chest and it is
beating like a heart (well then it must be my heart)
china digs a pattern in my backbone and i
am red red red red
i am a communist daughter and
the trains to shanghai will leave something
to be desired
i am eighteen, i am
all the life in the world
stacked around a schoolruined spine
and the world moves softly and she
touches me gent
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For the Insecure-Writers weekly prompt!
Edit: What a wonderful surprise to stumble upon this when I woke up! Lots and lots and lots of love to Eremitik who suggested this piece, and thank you GrimFace242 for featuring it! I will reply to all of the sweet comments as soon as I get the chance.
Edit: What a wonderful surprise to stumble upon this when I woke up! Lots and lots and lots of love to Eremitik who suggested this piece, and thank you GrimFace242 for featuring it! I will reply to all of the sweet comments as soon as I get the chance.
© 2014 - 2024 daybreaksmiles
Comments185
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This has to be one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read! I favorited it a while ago and I just keep re-reading it over and over. Keep up the good work!