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[my.]

if your eyes were oceans, they were the ones that
had dried up. just an empty abyss holding the feeling
of a lost memory. a remnant of something
you can almost remember.

[dear.]

your lips were always feathered moth wings
against my eyelids. fluttering and sacred,
afraid. no touch was sweeter than the one
which brought all your fears to the surface.

[you.]

your hands told me that you would always love me.
but they also trembled a lot.

[are.]

your breath was the honey-sweet air of the night, gently
stirring the hairs on the back of my neck as you held me
ever close. it was the feeling of joy and sadness.
of good things that wouldn't last.

[so.]

your galaxy is written in stars across your
cheeks. every one is a sun, i told you. but
you always said that your stars spoke of misfortune
in your future.

[cliche.]

your whispers are of living forever, but your words
speak of life is too short. while you promise you'll
be with me forever, i still feel you
fading away.

[and that's alright with me.]
©2009 *Zaratops
:iconzaratops:

Author's Comments

i. have. something to say.

what is cliche?

does it really matter?

that something you love

should be given up

because it is loved

so very much?



i find it annoying that people are obsessing over how "bad" cliches are. they only exist because they stem from something we love.

so here is a little cliche poem for you. if you don't like it, go fall in a hole. [:

ps~
it's a statement. read between the lines.

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconsacred-tomato:
So I'm guessing you're not entering =bekkia's contest, which seems to be what this is stemming from. Idk what she did you make you so angry. She seems pretty nice to me.
:iconzaratops:
lol, she didn't do anything, and i'm not angry. :3
i just think for a while now people are saying too many things are cliche.

and i was thinking about joining, but i'm not really a contest person. i only write when i can, and i hardly am able to conform to a theme.
:iconburntoutbeauty:
I love the message behind this poem <3 (:

--
love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
:iconlosingmyfaith:
i love this, great work (: :heart:

--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
:iconzaratops:
thanks again sweetie! :hug:
:iconlosingmyfaith:
aw, you're most welcome :huggle:

--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
:iconsacred-tomato:
You should enter! I think your stuff deserves more credit than you give it.
:iconzaratops:
you think? lol, i don't know... we'll see. :3

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September 21
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