L. V., I Found This Poem Straining To Hear Your Voice

Rising Road (Detail)
Gustave Caillebotte, 1881

L. V., i found this poem straining to hear your voice

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More Posts from Literaryvein and Others

literaryvein

10 months ago

Have you written any response poems to your older poems from years ago?

yup

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anonymous

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literaryvein

11 months ago

Hello LV, I can't find the words to thank you for the prose piece you wrote about my story. All I can say is I love it truly. I'll hold on to that piece of writing for the rest of my life like your other followers. I think I will be coming back to it when life isn't treating me well. Keep on writing..

And I hope I remember these kind words when life isn't treating me well. Thank you, dear stranger.

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literaryvein

1 year ago

Detail of "Woman Reading (The Artist's Wife)"
Aaron Shikler, 1962

after you, even poetry couldn’t heal me

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem when a stranger on the bus sat next to me

13: "...Eight years later, I still dream about him." "...stare at his pictures on my phone everyday...scared to forget the color of his eyes, his smile and his laugh lines..." "...I don’t really look at his pictures anymore but it’s because I don’t need to anymore. I only have to close my eyes and I can see his face clearly in my mind..." "...always used to laugh a lot until our sides hurt alot..." "...still remember all the stories...about his childhood."

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literaryvein

6 months ago

“I see black light.” –Victor Hugo
“…the fog is rising.” –Emily Dickinson
“Now, I shall go to sleep.” –Lord Byron
“Goodnight, my kitten!” –Ernest Hemingway told Mary, his wife, before he, “put the end of the barrel into his mouth, pulled the trigger and blew out his brains.” When the authorities arrived, Mary was sedated and taken to the hospital. It “did not seem to her a conscious lie” when she told the press that his death had been accidental.
“I can’t sleep.” –J. M. Barrie
“…thank God it has come!” –John Keats

—found poetry, in writers’ last words
poem found by: L. V.

a frankenstein poem from writers' last words
edited by L. V.

No one told me good night would be your last words to me. If only I knew. I would have stretched that conversation longer. I wouldn’t have let you close your eyes. I would have pried your mouth open with my teeth until your blood coloured me all over and I would carry you with me everywhere for a lifetime. I will be stained with you for a lifetime. And people will look at me, and they will ask things like, where did all the blood come from? And I wouldn’t know what to say so I’ll just give them a smile or a chuckle, and a shrug. And they will say things like, it doesn’t matter. It brings out the colour in your eyes. And I’ll wonder for a lifetime what they meant by that. - L. V.

I’m drafting my last words
on a brown paper napkin at a café.
But will anyone be there to hear them?
Will you be there
to hold my hand and listen?
- L. V.

L. V., idk how to let you go

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literaryvein

10 months ago

L. V., He’s Not The Right Person If You Have To Lie To Him Like This, Your Friends Tell You. But I'm

L. V., He’s not the right person if you have to lie to him like this, your friends tell you. But I'm not lying. But he's not the right person. But I want him to be the right person. He has to be the right person. I’m going to make him the right person. I’m tired. He’s not the right person. But why does he smile like that.

[i found this poem in my drafts, where it should have remained (pt. 5)]

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literaryvein

1 month ago

Your writing is gorgeous!

You're too kind, thank you <3

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literaryvein

3 years ago

L. V., i found this poem inside an empty promise

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literaryvein

3 years ago

L. V., i found this poem running around in your mind

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literaryvein

11 months ago

watch foreign movies without turning the subtitles on.
turn the volume up.

- L. V.

Jose Clemente Orosco, Detail of The Bedroom (c. 1910)

fill your room with conversation
you aren’t a part of.

- L. V.

listen. you’re a ghost now.
listen. until you begin to have dreams of letting people into your life again.
listen. until you desire to be a part of someone else’s life again.

- L. V.

L. V., 24th July '14

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literaryvein

6 months ago

Detail of "Набережная Рей в Базеле в дождь" ("Ray Embankment in Basel in the rain")
Alexandre Benois, 1896

The rain winds up inside me. I rage and I pour. And I drown all at once.

I settle into a gentle tap tap tap at the foot of your bed.

L. V., i found this poem when you kept me awake ‘til 4 in the morning

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