#include <iostream> i will just rewrite things nicely inside me and rewire the currents and de-bug the code so that int main () { he was not my second love or the first boy he was just he was just endl; he was nothing. he was a flux of my self-projection and a tightly labeled… Continue reading poem: c++ [i do not write love poems anymore]
Tag: heartbreak
poem: all this is [now] redundant
everytime i hear footsteps i think it is [him] but i look up and of course i am wrong he does not belong to me [anymore] so why am i waiting for him to come back to me. there is too much grey in tiled hearts i am just bored i am a female anomaly… Continue reading poem: all this is [now] redundant
poem: boys/girls
boys who use "therefore" in texts should not be trusted with the hearts of girls who read literary theory for fun (soulmates?) (i guess not.)
poem: the fiction, after
i intend to make the most of this heartbreak and to see your shadowed face slipping by in every man who walks briskly through the rain and to see you in every false memory and to see you laying naked next to me with our hands between the cigarette smoke and then later the door… Continue reading poem: the fiction, after
poem: foolish games
i won't tell you his name but it's very beautiful still inside my mouth and i could have civilized him and brought that innocence softness of him into everyday candlelight. the places where i go, now, are only places where he smiled at me once but all is fiction and idealized in this locked box… Continue reading poem: foolish games
poem: girl standing (abroad)
girl standing in the yellowing light of a foreign classroom with asian fingerprints on the windows and her face turned up to the rippling low green mountains that sneak up to the smog and the blue horizons. she has a red scarf twisted around her neck and her future with the romance pecking at the… Continue reading poem: girl standing (abroad)
poem: clichés at nineteen
the light shifted grey down over her face she did not put herself into crying she just sat on her bed and laughed at the irony of it all. that nothing had really changed that her only romance was chemical (the dopamine he triggered in her psychotic ticking brain). she's over him now, anyway. let… Continue reading poem: clichés at nineteen
the last pavilion 