Poetic Attempt || Eighteen

For you:

My love is not as pure as yours
(sometimes a gift, oftentimes deception in elegant packaging)
every line of every sonnet I’ve written about you
is deliberately metered in white lies
every syllable weighed down by empty promises
spoken underneath my breath
in between a portfolio of fleeting heartbeats

My love is not as loud as yours
(sometimes a whisper, oftentimes a mere afterthought)
and darling I am so sorry
that my pretty glitter cut through your soul
like shards of broken glass slicing through
the soft flesh in between fingers
that have gently held mine

Eighteen
(Written on 17 February 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.

6 thoughts on “Poetic Attempt || Eighteen”

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