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literature
Desole Pour L'Attente
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Literature Text
Your voice is like black treacle.
Thick and dark
And rich and
Pulling me under
Slowly.
A quicksand which envelops me
The more I struggle.
Sweet:
Wrapped unkempt and
Unpolished around this heart
This heart,
Which bloomed unexpectedly
Despite, or because of
Previous rain.
It only revealed vibrant colour
In the light of
Your sun.
Low:
It threads the air like
So many balloons on a birthday
I'll ignore, hoping for another occasion.
It's up to you.
Sweet and low, I'll lie
In bed and hope, counting months and lie
To my reflection,
Pretending I don't mind.
My mind replying that I'm lucky.
Battles
I can't escape, engaged in war
And nothing else.
I hope for a cliché.
A dream I unexpected.
It's up to you.
Thick and dark
And rich and
Pulling me under
Slowly.
A quicksand which envelops me
The more I struggle.
Sweet:
Wrapped unkempt and
Unpolished around this heart
This heart,
Which bloomed unexpectedly
Despite, or because of
Previous rain.
It only revealed vibrant colour
In the light of
Your sun.
Low:
It threads the air like
So many balloons on a birthday
I'll ignore, hoping for another occasion.
It's up to you.
Sweet and low, I'll lie
In bed and hope, counting months and lie
To my reflection,
Pretending I don't mind.
My mind replying that I'm lucky.
Battles
I can't escape, engaged in war
And nothing else.
I hope for a cliché.
A dream I unexpected.
It's up to you.
And I've always thought that I was such a patient person.
Here's hoping the next four or five months or so fly by.
N.B. The grammar in second to last line is intentional. I've been reading E.E.Cummings lately.
Here's hoping the next four or five months or so fly by.
N.B. The grammar in second to last line is intentional. I've been reading E.E.Cummings lately.
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