ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
She wears her worth around her neck
In the form of
A penny
From ninety-three years ago
And rusty locks,
Strung on an iron chain,
Along with broken
Keys that go to
Nothing
She knows of
Any longer.
She finds them, on
Street corners and in forgotten,
Lonely places,
Treating them like
Precious treasures
And long-lost friends;
She hangs them near her core
To try and remember
Where all the pieces go,
Where they all come from.
Maybe one day.
Her window
Is made of a shattered mirror
In the hopes of
Being able to see
Something that isn't on the outside.
She is not sure
Exactly what that is
Yet.
None of her parts match;
She constructs herself
Out of odds and ends
That others have thrown away.
She is cracked,
But,
She would not know
How to fix herself
If she was whole.
She strings up
Old bottle caps and
Passages from decaying books
While she tries to fasten together
Shards of glass
That leave empty spaces
Behind.
She loves them
Because,
How else is light
Supposed to shine through
Without a few holes
For it to escape from?
In the form of
A penny
From ninety-three years ago
And rusty locks,
Strung on an iron chain,
Along with broken
Keys that go to
Nothing
She knows of
Any longer.
She finds them, on
Street corners and in forgotten,
Lonely places,
Treating them like
Precious treasures
And long-lost friends;
She hangs them near her core
To try and remember
Where all the pieces go,
Where they all come from.
Maybe one day.
Her window
Is made of a shattered mirror
In the hopes of
Being able to see
Something that isn't on the outside.
She is not sure
Exactly what that is
Yet.
None of her parts match;
She constructs herself
Out of odds and ends
That others have thrown away.
She is cracked,
But,
She would not know
How to fix herself
If she was whole.
She strings up
Old bottle caps and
Passages from decaying books
While she tries to fasten together
Shards of glass
That leave empty spaces
Behind.
She loves them
Because,
How else is light
Supposed to shine through
Without a few holes
For it to escape from?
Literature
Shards
The dream shatters around me like a broken mirror.
Pieces of you surround me, but nothing seems to be clear.
I'm still cleaning up the mess you made.
You should have put down your fear,
You could have stayed.
I'm done chasing.
I've stopped running.
Have you even noticed that I'm walking the other way?
I'm cut by the shards of what's left of who you were.
Red tears stain the surface while the world is in a blur.
Literature
Glass
At some point,
I stopped making eye contact.
I'm not sure how it happened
or why. I'm not sure if it's
some reflection of my
latent insecurities or
undeserved superiorities or
quiet anxieties.
But I am sure that
I miss the fleeting connection
on trains, buses, and sidewalks.
I miss the shape and color and
glint of golden gleam that used
to strike out across crowds at me.
My mother, my best friend, my lover -
what mysteries do I miss? What
is hidden in their second glances and
lingering stares?
I don't know because, at some point,
I stopped making eye contact,
even with the girl in the mirror.
Literature
what burns in the fire just ends up as coals.
i hated you because
you could keep quiet
when i couldn't, and the careful
nature you held onto until
the precise & perfect
moment.
it was all i could do
not to explode
but i was still fire
and spread slow,
slick & smooth beneath
your skin
and i kept my tongue still
firmly in my mouth
not letting anything escape
save for tiny breaths
that i was sure
weren't enough to keep
my lungs satisfied
and the fire spread
until i was wildfire
and my bones were kindling
and you just sat there
keeping quiet
while i burned alive.
wondering when you
would ever speak.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
The way I see it,
what's the point of locking up your secrets
and throwing away away the key,
if it means that someone has to break you open to see them?
Lock up those secrets,
But don't throw away the key.
--
Thrown together over the past few hours.
Take it as you will.
© *Cugra
what's the point of locking up your secrets
and throwing away away the key,
if it means that someone has to break you open to see them?
Lock up those secrets,
But don't throw away the key.
--
Thrown together over the past few hours.
Take it as you will.
© *Cugra
© 2012 - 2024 SomethingOnceSacred
Comments26
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Nice short line breaks, adds something effective to the poem. Well done!