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Literature Text
i dreamt about you last night.
--
you were sweetly sleeping beside me. morning sunlight streamed through the cheap plastic blinds, illuminating dust and the hair on your arms. my head was on your chest. i looked up at you and smiled. softly, i kissed your jawline, the five o'clock shadow rough against my lips. god, i love that. subconsciously your arm tightened around my waist. i reveled in the feel of our bare skin touching, in the warmth, the softness. the clock reads 6:03am. i relax, appreciating what so many take for granted, and soon fall back into blissful sleep.
--
but i woke up alone to cold sheets and a goddamned barking dog in a shitty apartment because you're not here.
and it was just another fucking dream.
--
you were sweetly sleeping beside me. morning sunlight streamed through the cheap plastic blinds, illuminating dust and the hair on your arms. my head was on your chest. i looked up at you and smiled. softly, i kissed your jawline, the five o'clock shadow rough against my lips. god, i love that. subconsciously your arm tightened around my waist. i reveled in the feel of our bare skin touching, in the warmth, the softness. the clock reads 6:03am. i relax, appreciating what so many take for granted, and soon fall back into blissful sleep.
--
but i woke up alone to cold sheets and a goddamned barking dog in a shitty apartment because you're not here.
and it was just another fucking dream.
Literature
we have the softest heartbeats
i don't know what it means when you say
you don't know what i mean.
the implications of my every sentence stain the
atmosphere like neon lights and i'm left wondering
how you can still be so clueless. how after
all this time. after all the sentences we traded
with each other. after every minute that makes
the miles smaller. you still don't get it. how
you could still not get me.
this is the part where i need to remind myself
that you were never mine.
you've never been anyone's because there isn't
a sentence simple enough to make you stay so
three words and eight letters won't leave you
breathless in between my bed sheet
Literature
gravitational collapse
I remember being seven years old, sitting at our scratched kitchen table and being able to see the moon through the reflective glass of the window over the sink. And I remember being terrified, because here I was sitting in same place and already the whole world had shifted and moved and rotated and spun and tilted and hurled through space at a rate so quick I could never comprehend it. To me, this was the sort of mystery you didn't try to solve.
I remember being curled up against the solid frame of your body with your right hand claimed in between both of mine. Our pale skin blending together as I traced constellations on your palms. You la
Literature
parentheses
i was going to ask you to hold back my hair
if i started to heave
but it's cut in mourning
for the fawns dying under the chalky
moist hands of children,
in mourning for newspaper print
threatening suicide off the tips of your eyelashes,
saying things like
i could fall faster
i could convert more
i could shine my face brighter than your sands
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i just wanna fall asleep beside you ...
so, does the contrast between the dream and reality really help you understand the narrator's emotions? is it too harsh to go from the sweet romantic-ness of the dream to the swearing of the reality, or does it help? do the details give you a clear picture, does it make you feel? what does it make you feel? thanks so SO much for your feedback, it helps me improve as a writer.
here is my critique of a piece recently submitted in the group theWrittenRevolution:
[link]
so, does the contrast between the dream and reality really help you understand the narrator's emotions? is it too harsh to go from the sweet romantic-ness of the dream to the swearing of the reality, or does it help? do the details give you a clear picture, does it make you feel? what does it make you feel? thanks so SO much for your feedback, it helps me improve as a writer.
here is my critique of a piece recently submitted in the group theWrittenRevolution:
[link]
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Comments16
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The contrast between the sweet dream and the cold reality was very evident, and reflected the narrator's emotions well.
I think that the transition was a bit too harsh for my personal liking, but it does feels like the narrator (and the reader) was being jolted awake, to face a bitter reality.
The details were perfect. I loved the phrase "the five o'clock shadow".
This piece made me feel nostalgic and bitter, but during the narrator's dream I felt a sense of charm and welcoming. It was quite easy to sympathize with the narrator.
Overall, this is a very beautiful piece.
I think that the transition was a bit too harsh for my personal liking, but it does feels like the narrator (and the reader) was being jolted awake, to face a bitter reality.
The details were perfect. I loved the phrase "the five o'clock shadow".
This piece made me feel nostalgic and bitter, but during the narrator's dream I felt a sense of charm and welcoming. It was quite easy to sympathize with the narrator.
Overall, this is a very beautiful piece.