Poetic Attempt || Sixteen

[ t h i r d ]
ink bleeds through crisp pages
for the sake of giving birth to
letters that make love
creating pretty sentences
that paint vivid sunsets
we find beautiful
and somewhere in the heart
of our madness
we start to believe that perhaps
rough patches of flesh
stained by ink from our own veins
are just as lovely

[ s e c o n d ]
it is only in poetry
that pain becomes an art
we wish to hang on our walls
and wear on the canvas of our skin
it is only as we drown in a sea of words
that we lose the urgency to breathe

[ f i r s t ]
do not fool yourself into thinking
that your body is lined with parchment
or that the knife in your hands
could ever be a quill

[ r e a d ]

Sixteen
(Written on 22 January 2017)

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Shealea

First of her name. Queen of millennials and the constantly caffeinated. Protector of books. Breaker of norms. Iskolar ng bayan.

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