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Ansley Sep 2018
The sentence looks like someone who's sibling I used to be,
smells like sand and Pepto Bismol.
and is wet and warm and sticky.
As it sounds like a gun shot in an apartment in Virginia,
The sentence whispers to me a time of death.
I despise being the next of kin at a funeral filled with people I do not know
Ansley Sep 2018
Stop turning red when I am tired, it makes us look bad.
Stop being a **** for eyelashes.
(I would like it if they were in you less.)
Lastly, stop tearing up when I feel even the slightest non-neutral feeling.
You know I'd rather kick a wall with tacks wedged between my toenails and skin than make a scene.
Sincerely, Ansley,
you know, the person trapped inside this flesh bag.
I believe there are many romanticized renditions blue, green, and the occasional brown eye, but it only works with other people's eyes, as we see here.
Ansley Sep 2018
Maybe my debate coach was right,
For I am just a squirrel on *******
Don't over think this it is merely a Joke
Ansley Aug 2018
He wanted to apologize,
truly,
but swallowing his pride made him choke and retch,
and surely she couldn't blame him for that,
Right?
Getting sick at the thought of being wrong sounds familiar, and regretting why is okay as long as one fixes it and does not drown their regret in Katy Perry music
Ansley Aug 2018
The old woman ran a leathery hand through her cropped hair.
"Yes, you may weep for the fields of green, as they were gorgeous yet thought to be boring."
She rocked back and forth and her wrinkled face contorted into a smile for the first time in the conversation.
"You may always cry for the tulip fields as they were devastatingly beautiful yet loathed."
And yet, as soon as her face had lit up like a thousand suns, it was once again devoid of expression.
"But, nonetheless, reserve your pity for those that loved he or she that burned out,
for every lover of Icarus knows that it is better to be hated than to go unnoticed."
I love mixing styles together in a way that makes me doubt my own skill
Ansley Aug 2018
The sun dances on her hair,
The brown echoing the colour of both her eyes and her freckles
As she dances through the sunflowers that are taller than her.
The other girl almost starts wondering how long it can last.
But she doesn't because
She promised the other girl that she wouldn't.
She also promised she would not pay attention to the siren or how it is getting very hot,
and very bright,
very fast.
They're out in the middle of a field for their last few minutes, trying to make happy last forever, which I find I try to do more often than I should.
Ansley Aug 2018
Eric thought the other boy was beautiful, so he took pictures.
He took his smirk
He took the cliche sparkle from his eyes
He took everything
Until his beautiful boy was gone
And all he had were photos of nothing
I fear that after a while, pictures lose details
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