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The room smelled of stale whiskey, the odor of cigarettes hung in the dank room like guano, her snoring played a macabre symphony. Lying there alone with my thoughts, I reached an epiphany & knew, this was not the way it was supposed to be. All my life, I'd heard stories of shooting stars, weak knees & melting hearts. And now, I felt like a dead meteorite, snuffed by reentry, obilerated by myth, broken hearted & still wondering if true love really does exist. I rolled over her arm, tilted the near-empty bottle & swallowed the last drop of stinging hope.
0
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
Swallowing The Last Drop of Hope
The room smelled of stale whiskey, the odor of cigarettes hung in the dank room like guano, her snoring played a macabre symphony. Lying there alone with my thoughts, I reached an epiphany & knew, this was not the way it was supposed to be. All my life, I'd heard stories of shooting stars, weak knees & melting hearts. And now, I felt like a dead meteorite, snuffed by reentry, obilerated by myth, broken hearted & still wondering if true love really does exist. I rolled over her arm, tilted the near-empty bottle & swallowed the last drop of stinging hope.
jonny-angel
Written by
American
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
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