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Literature Text
It’s funny, honestly
how in one look,
you can interpret a person.
Staring is ‘impolite’
but really, they’re just afraid.
Frightened of what you’ll find.
Inside their eyes
Is a world.
Their world.
You can see it reflecting back
as it comes crashing down
to settle, like dust and sand
around their feet.
Have you ever noticed
that the eyes are windows
perhaps to one’s soul?
‘Your life—the open window’
indeed.
Perhaps, it would be better said
‘Your eyes...the window to your life.’
how in one look,
you can interpret a person.
Staring is ‘impolite’
but really, they’re just afraid.
Frightened of what you’ll find.
Inside their eyes
Is a world.
Their world.
You can see it reflecting back
as it comes crashing down
to settle, like dust and sand
around their feet.
Have you ever noticed
that the eyes are windows
perhaps to one’s soul?
‘Your life—the open window’
indeed.
Perhaps, it would be better said
‘Your eyes...the window to your life.’
Literature
Matchstick
irreplaceable yet unnecessary
leave me in your retrospect
where you found me, unwanted & with a question mark over my head
or a Matchstick, maybe
I'm the fire you started &
couldn't put out
the one you doused &
the One you'll freeze without.
Literature
homecoming
nearly home. nearly home. a space and time away from where you want to be: belonging to yourself. there is a midnight garden somewhere inside my lungs, black and tarry from the darkness i am siphoning from your lips to mine, trying to let the light in, trying to stop the hurt becoming a euphemism for two vertical red lines drawn in a bathtub. you have turned me inside out. raw, vulnerable; the silence is an agony.
you have wormed your way inside and I have agreed to be your golem, a clay replacement for the affections of the woman who bedded herself beneath your skin and rearranged your spine. even so, let me give til i am a dry husk, let me
Literature
on me
on me
For an exam I had to memorize all the tactics we use to get people to like us.
I tell you I like you even if I don't.
I feign similarity even if I am as black as you are white.
I make myself attractive with scalpels and starvation.
I project modesty even if I like to brag.
I do not like this, but I still wear bright red low-cut tops to job interviews
and lie about my interests and achievements around strangers.
There is a tension between truth and sleeping ignorance. I am searching for the core.
At the center of it all, a pulsing, slimy revelation waits for me.
I don't know if it is a deeper crime to act this way without knowing,
or
Suggested Collections
‘Your life—the open window’
from 'Compensation Portrait '
by Joel Lewis
from 'Compensation Portrait '
by Joel Lewis
© 2006 - 2024 londonmeanswild
Comments18
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Excellent work. Although the language is simple, it works very effectively to deliver your intended message.