She is a fever, longing still

She is a fever, longing still

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Sep 27, 2023
UNPUBLISHED HERE TO PUBLISH AS AN ACTUAL BOOK BUT I WAS SO ASHAMED I UNPUBLISHED IT, MIGHT REPUBLISH IT HERE ONE DAY...
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#485
unconditional
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"I pretend I never loved you I will pretend it was never the easiest thing to do I will pretend that I'm over it Pretend I am over you But no one has a fucking clue And I'll throw my popcorn away. Hide my face. Wipe away my tears. I wasn't special enough And that is alright by me." ------------------------ At this point this collection of poems is almost like a diary. I always hated poetry. I like people who are direct and honest. And that's how I prefer literature. I believed myself to be bad at double meanings and metaphors and hated pretty words to cover up the ugly reality. Yet, I found myself being fascinated by it. I think it's the most vulnerable side of me. Wanting to communicate through a medium I think little of and yet understands me. It has no structure. It can be messy and yet beautiful. It's allowed to be unpolished. Wrong quotations. Or even lacking any. At this point in my life I feel like everything I thought was right to be wrong and so maybe something wrong could be right. You haven't even asked for this. And still you know it now. "Art is where what we survive survives" -Kaveh Akbar

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