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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
June 8, 2013
Love and Eighth Grade Science by *aloverscharm adds a loving quality to physics and a technical side to romance with a wonderful parting line.
Featured by Nichrysalis
Literature Text
My love
is like white light,
intense,
comprised of the entire color spectrum,
but for now it has been diffused into its original components
by the prism you have set forth.
The colors are brilliant but aimless,
mere echoes between empty walls.
My love
is like potential energy, waiting
to be converted to kinetic energy,
at top speed and with incredible momentum.
but first, you have to push.
is like white light,
intense,
comprised of the entire color spectrum,
but for now it has been diffused into its original components
by the prism you have set forth.
The colors are brilliant but aimless,
mere echoes between empty walls.
My love
is like potential energy, waiting
to be converted to kinetic energy,
at top speed and with incredible momentum.
but first, you have to push.
Literature
for all intensive purposes
i am accused of being
a category five--
but i will not excuse the way my skin aches.
i want storms.
i remember the way Katrina screamed &
if you press your ear to my chest you will hear the same.
the moan turning into a pitch, the pitch
screaming until the throat is too raw to be
more than a whimper.
the way it stops
and pauses,
silently racked until it bursts forth once more.
i will not apologize for being demolition.
scars exist on every woman
too powerful to contain herself.
Literature
Sacchariferous
for the Admiral
my dandelions speak of
the kitchen, brimming
with sun-streaked sugar
and mended-over smiles.
floured fingerprints cloud the sky,
but every broken egg is one more yellow flower.
in sweetgrass and flowers
i find white-leaf bandages for cracked shells. coils of
sky
fill the bowl to the brim-
the world is a clean smile
wrapped in sugar.
everything here is white and pale as sugar
gathered to mend your flowered
smile.
i wish you'd swallow always fields of
dandelions that brim
with every clean, clear sky.
i'll measure out the sky
in cups of sugar.
fogged upon the rim
of the flour bowl- your fingerprints in flowe
Literature
Thirteen
One day I'll let her go -
my balloon child,
made of air and stuff so thin
I don't know how it holds her in.
Nor what I'm to do then,
but watch her go, with her string
still attached like a doubt
she's not cast off yet. Not today,
but soon. For now,
she's still my child balloon.
.
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Written April 23, 2013, after an exasperated venting session with a fellow tormented soul about being lonely because we have so much love but no idea what to do with it. Going with my thirteen-liner format again, because it just keeps happening that way.
© 2013 - 2024 hopeburnsblue
Comments42
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I can't believe I didn't read this earlier! Congrats on the DD! Very beautiful.