Scraps from the Shoebox
Written by Lydia-Zhou
This work was last updated January 27, 2016
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and birds amass
of a feather, flock
of Father Time.
They linger. They fly
away they cry,
from the whip,
from Time's impatience.
When does Time cease?
The birds cry: Please—
We are tired of being lost
to there, back here.
Where are we from?
The wind took our breadcrumbs—
Where did we begin?
Home is at nothing.
A predator of the blue seas
Jets overhead in pursuit of that great prey
A bite of sinewy muscle
Clear blue bleeds red
My thoughts wander
Running tired in pursuit of that thought
A wish not fulfilled...
The city, frosted and polished, shines,
Reflecting the moon, shy, above a hundred thousand LEDs.
I give myself to you in a frozen breath.
We evaporate one star struck night.
a wished dream of dark eyes, natural stubble
knees touch pebbled floor— kiss my breath your warmth
fingers touch waist— release me to rubble
apotheosis of sunlight, bleached affection
wandered eyes taste sugared tears— love me more
careful tongue taste burns— topple from heaven
I miss you you lie
Where do you go I loved you
Come back embrace me
Don’t cry— remember?
I don’t hate you I loved you
I promised you lied
My heart hurt. I’m fine now.
Some pieces I found from the past year that I spruced up a bit.