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Literature Text
its nice a comfy
lots of room to stretch
nights like this
heart is staggering
to beat
it'd be a lot
nice to feel another persons
heat
love in their eyes
cuddles a kisses all through
the night
to fill the soul
to match the full size bed
lots of room to stretch
nights like this
heart is staggering
to beat
it'd be a lot
nice to feel another persons
heat
love in their eyes
cuddles a kisses all through
the night
to fill the soul
to match the full size bed
Literature
Gone
It's like a punch in my gut
A hole in my throat
Cotton in my head
I can't seem to accept the reality
I see your grave
I sit in your empty chair
Watch as your room became just a memory
The old photos of us smiling
The memories of us laughing
The old songs we used to sing
It both haunts and comforts me
Life has never been easy
But now it'll be so much harder
Time became my enemy
Fooling me into believing I had so much more
Just turn the clock back
Rewind the tapes of those happy memories once more
Come back to me
Tell me it'll all be ok.
But there's a sting in my heart
And it reminds me you're gone
I know this pain will be with me always
How co
Literature
Something Behind Every Thing Pt. 2
I have a thought that leads to a feeling,
an emotion locked inside an empty soul.
I lie when I answer with I don't care,
and hold back a wall of tears
beneath my blank stare.
My torn heart has shattered
because of the silence that consumes me,
leaving me to feel lonely.
Behind closed eyes,
I am unreadable,
with no way of letting others know,
the reason why I say I'm fine,
The reason why I put up a wall of happiness,
when I feel so much pain.
Literature
The Woman In Black.
Hollow.
There is no other word fitting enough to describe her eyes. If one could even call them eyes, for to me they were shadows, sunken black holes in a sunken white face. Paper thin, her pale skin stretched painfully over razor sharp cheekbones, so thin it was almost translucent.
Her lips were two dead roses. Once, there had been colour there. Youth, life. Now, the blossoms had withered, leaving only two white husks to remain. Barely there, she was a ghost, a spectre of her former self, all the years of bitterness and hatred and pain bleaching away her beauty.
A sheet of sorrow, akin to a shroud, was the black veil that frosted over her
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been there with those feels.....