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#wystful poetry
yeswearemagazine · 11 months
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The Side Look of a Barcelonese #1 996 : Sunken Forest © Dirk Wüstenhagen aka Dyrk Wyst :
The Side Look of a Barcelonese #1 996 : Sunken Forest © Dirk Wüstenhagen aka Dyrk Wyst :
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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how should i look at a painting
and not think about your fingers grazing the canvas
lovingly
gracing the paintbrush with your imaginative mind
i look at art and think of you
to me,
it’s synonymous
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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if i told you how much i was hurting
would you kiss me to make it better
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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why do you make me feel ill
someone saying your name makes my stomach churn
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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i feel my emotions boiling into a white hot rage. pay attention to me pay attention to me pay attention to me please
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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you’re lucky juliet,
you get to wake up
romeo is already dead
you killed him
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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prometheus bound,
you, an eagle cannibalizing
the organs of this
milk livered man
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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i want to lay down with you in the aisle of a church
pointing up to the rafters and lamps as if they were constellations and stars.
the statues and portraits of saints acting as an audience for our laughter
hopefully seraphim will pay a visit
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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the entire time, i was thinking about what it would feel like to have your smile pressed against my neck: collarbone, even. i couldnt help but run my hand along my throat to mimic the ghost of a touch only you could recreate.
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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i wish you could see me at parties. i think you would be impressed at how well i can take liquor at my age
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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you make me crave domesticity
usually, i walk drunken-clad home with shoes on their wrong feet
you make ares choose peace
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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the bedroom to I,
a cathedral to where body and blood
worshipped, devoured, blessed.
my open arms an offering on the altar-
a queen size bed
wrinkled sheets
sacred blessings
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saintosebastians · 3 years
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hopefully to lear,
as to you,
i reside in your mind as cordelia
not having to say how much i adore you
already knowing the truth
and secretly loving back
through a curtain of uncertainty
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