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Literature Text
Delilah, may I cut your hair?
Use your braids to tie you to the bed we share?
May I keep you there,
to stay forever at my pleasure?
Delilah, you are my lover,
but you do not love me.
With slender fingers that I often kissed
you found your way inside my skin and
deftly pulled a heartstring out,
wrapping it like wire
'round your slender finger like a ring.
Would you attach it to your heart
or cut it, too?
Delilah, you are my love
but you do not love me.
What can I do to make you love me?
Anything if you will stay…
Delilah, will you cut my hair?
I will be your slave forever,
or longer,
if it should be your pleasure.
I will die at your pleasure, cruel Delilah.
Kiss me.
Say that you love me.
Lie, Delilah, lie.
You say you love me,
Delilah, lie, lie, lie.
You are my lover,
but you do not love me.
Nothing I could do would make you love me,
but you lie, Delilah.
Every night, you lie to me.
You took everything from me.
Delilah, I want to cut your hair,
use your braids to tie you to the bed we share,
and make you stay there at my pleasure.
Die at my pleasure, cruel Delilah.
Use your braids to tie you to the bed we share?
May I keep you there,
to stay forever at my pleasure?
Delilah, you are my lover,
but you do not love me.
With slender fingers that I often kissed
you found your way inside my skin and
deftly pulled a heartstring out,
wrapping it like wire
'round your slender finger like a ring.
Would you attach it to your heart
or cut it, too?
Delilah, you are my love
but you do not love me.
What can I do to make you love me?
Anything if you will stay…
Delilah, will you cut my hair?
I will be your slave forever,
or longer,
if it should be your pleasure.
I will die at your pleasure, cruel Delilah.
Kiss me.
Say that you love me.
Lie, Delilah, lie.
You say you love me,
Delilah, lie, lie, lie.
You are my lover,
but you do not love me.
Nothing I could do would make you love me,
but you lie, Delilah.
Every night, you lie to me.
You took everything from me.
Delilah, I want to cut your hair,
use your braids to tie you to the bed we share,
and make you stay there at my pleasure.
Die at my pleasure, cruel Delilah.
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Literature
What Need Have I of a Husband?
The first son of the king was born when the king's three daughters were twelve, eighteen, and twenty, after a long string of miscarriages, childhood illnesses, and general bad luck. He was healthy and smiling, and no one doubted that the king finally had his heir.
The king's first daughter, Penelope, was already married to a leader of an island nation. The king's third daughter, Sibylla, was too young to marry. The middle daughter, Chloe, was just old enough for men to come calling, and call they had, but after a year of her brother's life, she came to her parents with a request.
"Don't make me marry," she said to her father and her mother
Literature
someday i will cut my hair
someday i will cut my hair,
let the dresser do her worst
will watch the ends go first, light
from holding all of the sun, hear the
sharpness of the shears, will feel
buoyant, and alright
and leave the dark waves behind --
someday i will bind my hands
with golden bands, will let a
man lace his fingers
through the spaces between mine,
Literature
unfinished thoughts
i.
wake up. i can't stay long.
we are a series of fleeting moments that spell out "bad timing" and "tragic romance". you are broken machinery and i am still trying to decipher the binary code for love. ones and zeros collide into a lump in my throat and suddenly, the idea of saying goodbye makes my fingertips ache and my wrists burn.
ii.
do you remember when we kissed? it was a messy pile of metaphors and we were scared that somebody would see us and try to clean us up. i still ghost the back of my hand over my lips and imagine that it's yours, but then i remember that "yours" and "mine" are not words that apply to you and me anymore.
ii
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From Samson to Delilah.
My take on the tale of Samson and Delilah, from Samson's point of view.
formerly titled - "Delilah".
sorry for any confusion.
The link for Delilah's point of view and what she has to say to Samson is here
Samson, My Name is Fate My name is Fate,
and you have called it again and again,
every night that you lingered to sample my skin.
Every word that you sent is a word I hold dear,
signed and sealed with a kiss, each one a red letter,
lovingly written, faithfully delivered.
My ear is a conch shell holding your words forever like the sea,
endlessly, endlessly echoing them back forever for me,
and I return them to you, the closer you lay your head next to me.
Your voice, your voice, your voice has an echo…
A warm breath in my ear,
a cool cry on the wind.
Again! Again!
Beg the stars to linger.
Lace the night with my name.
A beautiful confession,
a
© 2010 - 2024 TheLunaLily
Comments66
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Great take on the classic story. I love the perspective that you used to tell the story. Great work