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literature
thimblefuls of milk
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Literature Text
butterflies tear apart the inside of my stomach
and pristine paper crinkles under my fingertips
and the back of my neck itches from invisible eyes.
i like rabbits in my poems
and the sea in my words;
hipbones and collarbones and ribcages
and lungs that don’t work properly;
i like melancholy moments and shoulderblade wings
and toes curling into sand;
hot, empty summer nights under pitch black skies
and the smell of rain pounding onto tarmac
in my poems
and they tell you to kill your darlings
but i like mine quite a lot
so i feed them bowls of milk instead,
and let them sleep in matchboxes
on my dresser
and sometimes,
when butterflies tear apart the inside of my stomach
and pristine paper crinkles under my fingertips
they sit in the spot that i can’t quite see
and they tell me stories.
and pristine paper crinkles under my fingertips
and the back of my neck itches from invisible eyes.
i like rabbits in my poems
and the sea in my words;
hipbones and collarbones and ribcages
and lungs that don’t work properly;
i like melancholy moments and shoulderblade wings
and toes curling into sand;
hot, empty summer nights under pitch black skies
and the smell of rain pounding onto tarmac
in my poems
and they tell you to kill your darlings
but i like mine quite a lot
so i feed them bowls of milk instead,
and let them sleep in matchboxes
on my dresser
and sometimes,
when butterflies tear apart the inside of my stomach
and pristine paper crinkles under my fingertips
they sit in the spot that i can’t quite see
and they tell me stories.
kind of a silly little poem. i like bits of it, others not so much.
as always, comments are loved and appreciated
as always, comments are loved and appreciated
© 2013 - 2024 aprilwednesday
Comments9
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I agree that the first stanza seems a little unnecessary but I like the way it closes the circle when combined with the last stanza.
Loved the imaginary.
Loved the imaginary.