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Armuth Lili

Fingertips

A burning desire

Every inch of my body, longing for her touch;

The sensation, her fingertips sliding over my spine, I whisper

You made me this way

My world, slowly drained of sanity

Her touch on my neck, wrist, even my spine and ribs;

I plead for you to break them,

One by one

Make a hanger if you wish

Wear my teeth as though they were jewels

Consume my lungs and liver, but never my heart;

I pray to your kindness

I beg, please allow me that last sense of stability




Envoyé: 11:30 Sun, 17 March 2024 par: Armuth Lili age: 17

Armuth Lili

Eve

I visited a church today. I have never been much of a believer, yet today I closed my eyes and uttered a silent prayer. Not that I have ever prayed before, I can only hope that god was able to hear me in his own domain. I pressed my eyelids shut, and asked him, why is it wrong to love a woman? Men are required to love a woman, you created them to be beautiful and so strong, and yet they are the individuals with the most pain engraved in their beings. It is only natural that men are unable to fully understand them. Women are magical, and misunderstood, yet why is it a sin for me to love one of my own? Man cannot cherish her, love her with the purest of intentions, like I, a woman, can.

 It is cruel even.

 Father, I am more than willing to accept eternal suffering, in exchange for loving her in this lifetime. For I would rather burn a thousand lifetimes, than spend a single one where I do not love her. Perhaps I am not so different from Eve, consuming the forbidden fruit.




Envoyé: 11:33 Sun, 17 March 2024 par: Armuth Lili age: 17

Armuth Lili

Freedom

I have always wished to be red. Resembling my passion, courage and sacrifice. The colour of the gaping hole in my underwear at the age of 12, that has never quite gone away. I embraced red, but deep down I never saw myself as such. I did not feel engulfed in crimson when I imagined my aura. I felt a deep connection with the colour, yet I always knew it was unattainable. So I wished to be green. Green, encapsulating my spirit, my jealousy and growth. But I knew I could never be quite green. I was too red to be green. Too green to be red. Then I tried not marking my identity with a single colour. However, not belonging is harder than pretending. Before I knew it, I had been green, I had been red, I had been magenta, blue, purple. My identity had no limits. I had lost myself, and that gaping hole had never been bigger. So I thought about filling it up, I wanted to extinguish my existence. Perhaps I was meant to be black, to absorb light, to absorb all colours. I thought, everyone must feel this way. Not everyone could possibly be just red or just green. How did everyone just..know? It felt as if the moment they were born, it had been stapled to their identity. Freedom is celebrated, they say freedom is what every individual is dreaming of. So why does my freedom feel so suffocating?


 




Envoyé: 11:42 Sun, 17 March 2024 par: Armuth Lili age: 17