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lady-annabelle
lady-annabelle
American Life smells like strawberries. / / I'm keeping my old poems because they're embarrassing and they'll be motivation for improvement
I found her in her room scattered across the floor, in piles and in heaps, shoved in corners, hidden under the bed, amongst the trash and the relics. I discovered her in it all. In her room, I learned who she was. We both found her there, as she sorted through it with me.
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
I found her
I wrote a tragedy with our lips. The story of our affair was filled with pages of your fingertips fluttering across my skin. Paragraphs covered our hidden desires to embrace what we pretended was ours. There were stolen kisses between the eyes of the public eye; Metaphors to mask our immorality; Chapters filled with our indiscretions; Never quite reaching the ****** we would have called love. I crafted a leather bound catastrophe of your infidelity where the bookends were our lips, and between them rested the arc of our lust.
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May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
A Revised Tragedy
I wrote a tragedy with my lips the story of our love the pages of your hands across my skin paragraphs of our hidden desire our stolen kisses written in-between the lines of the public eye the ****** metaphors to mask our immorality chapters filled with indiscretions the leatherbound catastrophe of your infidelity the bookends were our lips and between them was the story of our tragic love
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
I wrote a tragedy
Have you ever been so tired that the words won't come and sentences won't form and it's hard to communicate the simplest ideas because you're so exhausted
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Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Exhaustion
"I know everything," you say looking me in the eyes, testing me with an arrogant smirk. Yet, you question what's wrong with me. Funny, how you think you're right when you really don't seem to know anything at all.
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
You Don't Know It All
Awkward tension hangs in the air like the stale smell after the rain. Every once in a while a silent glance between us shows the hurt, or in your case, a very apathetic expression. Don't look at me like that. What happened to the "I'll always care"?
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
The Look
I still get butterflies thinking about the first time we held hands.
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Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
Butterflies
I'm sorry about your sweatshirt I couldn't help myself from stealing it But it isn't my fault you didn't believe that I would never give it back.
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
Sorry
"Are you mad at me?" "I wouldn't say 'mad.'" I'd say captious petulant furious acrimonious irritable querulous sour acerbic peevish ornery livid vicious. No, of course I'm not mad at you.
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
Mad? No.
You said he's no Mr. Wonderful that there's a lot of shame in his name You said his bad side is something I'd never want to see but I've seen glimpses once in awhile You got upset when I said he was amazing Scolding me to say he really wasn't You're his best friend I'm just Miss Pathetically-In-Love Maybe you're just protecting me when you say he's awful Maybe I should trust you when you say you speak the truth Wait a minute, why do you care so much?
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Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
Mr. Wonderful