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Literature Text
I want you to kiss me.
Not because of you
or me, or us.
Not for a relationship.
Not for the promise of another.
But because I’ve looked
into the mirror these last four
years, and I’ve seen the same girl.
Four years tired
and a lifetime weary,
but the same.
And I’ve never been kissed before,
so I want you to kiss me.
I’m not rushing to grow up,
I don’t want to.
But I want to change.
I want to grow,
and still be the same.
So I want you to kiss me.
So I can grow, and still be me.
I want to grow
and not grow up.
Because growing up
is leaving. Growing’s just
changing.
And if I must be known,
remembered as a bit
of broken glass as you
age, If I must be remembered
when you die,
I want to be beautiful.
I want you to carve me beautiful.
So I want you to kiss me.
If I must be condemned
to melt into a drop
of water, indistinguishable,
I want to go a snowflake.
I want to shift irrevocably
and still hold still.
Then the fear of movement will fade.
I don’t want us to kiss.
But I want you to kiss me.
I want to grow
without leaving, if grow I must.
I want to go forward
and still follow from behind.
I want to carry myself
in my arms.
I want you to kiss me.
But I don’t want to be kissed.
Not because of you
or me, or us.
Not for a relationship.
Not for the promise of another.
But because I’ve looked
into the mirror these last four
years, and I’ve seen the same girl.
Four years tired
and a lifetime weary,
but the same.
And I’ve never been kissed before,
so I want you to kiss me.
I’m not rushing to grow up,
I don’t want to.
But I want to change.
I want to grow,
and still be the same.
So I want you to kiss me.
So I can grow, and still be me.
I want to grow
and not grow up.
Because growing up
is leaving. Growing’s just
changing.
And if I must be known,
remembered as a bit
of broken glass as you
age, If I must be remembered
when you die,
I want to be beautiful.
I want you to carve me beautiful.
So I want you to kiss me.
If I must be condemned
to melt into a drop
of water, indistinguishable,
I want to go a snowflake.
I want to shift irrevocably
and still hold still.
Then the fear of movement will fade.
I don’t want us to kiss.
But I want you to kiss me.
I want to grow
without leaving, if grow I must.
I want to go forward
and still follow from behind.
I want to carry myself
in my arms.
I want you to kiss me.
But I don’t want to be kissed.
Literature
-
death knocks on your
door with a crooked little grin
and tells you that he'd like
his tea with two sugars, please,
and that you'd better start packing;
but only bring your valuables
because he's got no room in his hearse
for remorse
Literature
Turn my words against me.
I want my words to take
root in your stomach and grow
up your esophagus, the calyx
of your tongue brushing the edge
of your teeth until the words blossom
from your lips in a slow
explosion of elegance, jawline
trickled with nectar, charming
hummingbirds and honeybees
with the promise of butterfly kisses.
Literature
this is our enlightenment
all articulate ribs &
bone-yellow fingernails,
he says, "xanax-eyed girl,
don't you fall in love with
suffering." gums bleeding
ink that settles cavity-black
on the backs of his teeth,
he says he'll cut out his
tongue & bite bullets just to
wake half-dead in the morning.
he tells you, "this is the way
that writers become saviors."
this is sacrifice, he says,
but this is how we thrive.
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This is a piece not about wanting to receive my first kiss (or even to embark on a romantic endeavor, as though I'm eighteen, I'm not sure I'm mature enough for the immaturity it takes), but about realizing I'm growing and changing, and wanting to experience a change in myself to know that what I truly am will hold firm. Comments, as always, are appreciated.
© 2013 - 2024 Synesthi
Comments12
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Love your work as always I unerstan it all perfectly, indeed we are experiencing the same thing at the same time! I'm glad I found someone who understands and expresses it with words!:-D