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Literature Text
Too Late
We never pay attention,
Till someone is on the edge of death,
And by the time that moment arrives,
A shaky breath has already escaped their lips for the final time.
A Bit of Love
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Literature
Not Again
The stairs creak softy
Silently the doorknob turns
Please, no… not again
Literature
it's november.
it’s november. it’s time
for frost, and for old horses
to be put to rest.
i am
nothing but throat. you’ve
got more to say
than what comes to mind.
what messes we make,
laid outside in winter. we
share our dinner with the
skinny wolf and
spring bites at our heels.
what doesn’t kill me today
will teach you a softer story.
to live through winter
is a prize all on its own.
Literature
Stepfather
his hands painted me purple
along my jaw, under my eyes.
i would freeze to his rigid words
his dark stare, to a frown
oh my silence
when i could run, i surely ran
when i could fight,
i still took to flight
shame is a ghost
i freeze to the thoughts
of some young days
when i
abandoned her to him.
-
With him boxed in
pinewood, she asked;
Are you glad?
I said; I don’t know enough
about death to answer that.
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Don't ever be a person who doesn't finally pay attention until the end nears.
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Comments39
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This is so true, that's why I try to show to people I care about how much I like them. 