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Literature Text
You played her like new guitar strings,
Distant and rough and senseless,
Not caring what part of her your hands traced
Or what scars you crossed over
As long as you heard a sound
She bit her lip and smiled
Dreaming and falling all at once
Not seeing the snake eyes that landed
When you threw the dice,
But the blue of yours
That she couldn't forget
You said nothing
When she caught you in your lies
When she realized that the words you whispered to her--
at night, alone--
Were meant to cut and tease
That she was only a pretty face
You wanted to add to your collection
By the time she realized
That it was just a game,
The ace was in your pocket
And it was too late
To turn around
She was already a player
And you had already won
Distant and rough and senseless,
Not caring what part of her your hands traced
Or what scars you crossed over
As long as you heard a sound
She bit her lip and smiled
Dreaming and falling all at once
Not seeing the snake eyes that landed
When you threw the dice,
But the blue of yours
That she couldn't forget
You said nothing
When she caught you in your lies
When she realized that the words you whispered to her--
at night, alone--
Were meant to cut and tease
That she was only a pretty face
You wanted to add to your collection
By the time she realized
That it was just a game,
The ace was in your pocket
And it was too late
To turn around
She was already a player
And you had already won
Literature
after the party.
He's drunk in the backseat.
"Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.
Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.
I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to w
Literature
To the days where books couldn't heal
Usually it's easy to live without you. I wake up with my baby nephew shaking and hugging and poking me because he wants to play with me and I have to comply because he's too adorable. Mum's bacon sandwich always makes me happy because come on, it's bacon.
But not today. Today feels like asphalt dust just blows up on my face when I speed to town. Today feels like the gears on clocks stop working and my eyes are thunderstorms and lightnings. I couldn't see or feel, but they are overflowing with the madness of static movement. I think
Literature
You'll Miss Me One Day
You'll miss me one day,
I know you will.
You’ll miss my laugh,
And the smell of coffee
On my sweaters.
You’ll miss the way
My glasses would slip
When I was reading,
And the conversations
About art and writing;
When we’d argue
Over abstract art
And if it meant anything
Behind the surface.
You’ll miss the way
Every day was a surprise,
New colors on my clothes,
A new piece of art on the wall.
You’ll miss the way
I could always understand
How you were feeling.
Most of all, though,
I know you’ll miss my body,
Because in the end
I was just sex
To you.
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"Be careful of that one, love. He will do what it takes to survive."
Well, hopefully I won't make this mistake again. Be careful who you give your heart to. They might not treat it as nicely as you'd like.
Well, hopefully I won't make this mistake again. Be careful who you give your heart to. They might not treat it as nicely as you'd like.
© 2016 - 2024 Asterlia
Comments14
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Much love, my dear. I'm so sorry. He'll get what he deserves while you are now free to heal and show him that the tables have turned and this time, this time, you'll be the winner.