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"winced" poems
you didn’t like the way i answered the phone, and you thought it was gross that i liked mushrooms on my pizza, and you told me i was weird-looking when i was a kid, and once i sent you a tattoo and you said you didn’t like it, you didn’t know they were my words that were written on her body you told me what “too much damage” meant on halloween after all the trick-or-treaters had fallen asleep and when i kept silent for three days after, and winced at every kissing scene on television, because they flooded the insides of my eyelids with images that made me feel very small, you said i was being unfair because i was the one who decided we were just friends, and i told you we weren’t, you knew we weren’t we couldn’t be after what we used to be i told you i still had feelings that hadn’t gone away yet, you said they hadn’t gone away for you either i pictured you holding my hand but then you said, “that’s why it’s easier to run from them and hide in other girls beds.” you always told me every thought that popped into your head, and i used to find it endearing, i kept telling myself that you deserved my ear, but i really hope you have nothing more to say because, i promise, i’m done listening so clear off your bedside table, and cut the blue string that’s wrapped around your wrist if you’ve yet to do so, and stop asking me if i miss you, because this is me saying i don’t.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
butterflies, trains, and blood stains
he’s telling me about the girl at school he can’t get out of his head, and how he feels like it’s always this chain of "i don’t want all these people that want me," (i winced) “and the one person i want doesn’t want me in the same way.” (i inhaled sharply) i told him he’s overthinking it, and when he asked, “how do you not?” (i forgot to breathe) my eyes got watery, but i blinked quickly before they could settle (i exhaled) and replied, “i'll let you know.”
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
how to not care
“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend.   Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
T’was The Night Before Christmas
“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend.   Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"
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Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is ****** but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
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5.6k
Invictus [I. M. To R. T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899)]
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud, Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is ****** but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find me, unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
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5.3k
Invictus
609 I Years had been from Home And now before the Door I dared not enter, lest a Face I never saw before Stare solid into mine And ask my Business there— “My Business but a Life I left Was such remaining there?” I leaned upon the Awe— I lingered with Before— The Second like an Ocean rolled And broke against my ear— I laughed a crumbling Laugh That I could fear a Door Who Consternation compassed And never winced before. I fitted to the Latch My Hand, with trembling care Lest back the awful Door should spring And leave me in the Floor— Then moved my Fingers off As cautiously as Glass And held my ears, and like a Thief Fled gasping from the House—
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4.3k
I Years had been from Home
When I was 5 I wanted to be a doctor Until I realized I cried every time I needed a shot Winced when I saw someone fall And wanted to ***** when I saw blood. When I was 7 I wanted to be a veterinarian Until I realized I was more connected to animals Than I was to humans And I cried every time my dog so much as limped. When I was 10 I wanted to be a teacher Until I realized I could never let my students go And would be too concerned about what they’re going through That I wouldn’t even know what to teach them. When I was 13 I wanted to be a lawyer Until I realized I shook every time something bad happened And if I ****** at arguing with my brother How could I argue for someone’s future? When I was 15 I wanted to be a CEO Until I realized people would have to know my name And I’d have to tell them what to do When I didn’t even know what I was doing. When I was 17 I wanted to be an author Until I realized I couldn’t even read my own work Let alone let my family and friends read it Let alone let strangers read it. When I’m grown up All I really want to be Is so content with where I’m at That I don’t need to look too far in the future. When I grow up I just want a roof over my head A job I love And a family that loves me. When I grow up I don’t care what I’m doing Or where I am As long as I’m happy.
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
When I Grow Up
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head. is ****** but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
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2.7k
I. M. R.T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899) [Invictus]
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Seems to be a strange day a cold in the breeze in the months of May screeching’s of the door a mist at the windows broken pane The room was lonely as the leaves, out whirling a thump at the ceiling top, rolling, shackling like those ogling cats for a savoring mouse From an ominous weather to the whispering waters a crack brought my most —attention uncanny things lurking came falling within *I saw streamers faking shimmers I saw glitters but aren't gold I saw diamonds yet it wasn't snow* A strong wind gushing hoist the storm came toiling, warping heaven and earth were felonious, winced and everything was settled Crystal drops touching the tender heart abrupt shattered glass striking a sorry won't be sought memories engrave nothing flagrant it is to mend Crystal drops falling true friends come for once, an astral to a feeling stalwart is to be keeping till when, twas its end and all of this begins again
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Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Crystal Drops
they packed a patchy satchel with enough snacks to feed a child army of two, trekked though green-blue forest spackled with firefly flecks and second hand moss. came to a resting spot on the shores of Mirror Lake the one place picnic tables were not and they ate in the jagged reflection of solemn pine trees he mumbled 12 years of secrets through a confession booth of nougat spat out the seeds winced at black jelly beans and she rested on his knobby knees sighing with the breeze face upturned to catch downward droplets of moonbeam he was a half-formed pinecone dangling in the quiet dark she was some kind of meadow lark whistling the dawn no one forgot love after that no one could remember what lonely tasted like anymore.
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Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
Run-Away Meadowlarks
I could feel the cool damp air from outside A gentle weight on the skin, a particular smell The smell of a night stretched on too long I tiptoed across the carpeted floor boards The house was old and I knew it well Every little area it would groan and creek I was moving slowly but urged myself faster This wasn't like other nights, half asleep Wandering to the bathroom at the end of the hall No, the house is empty, or should I dare say was I felt a presence so strong, yet undefinable As if something was nearly upon me, only breaths away I avoided deftly the creaky areas of the floor beneath I felt the give of the wood beneath me as I reached the stairs This would prove far more difficult to be silent for Standing at the top I contemplated running down As fast as my legs could possibly carry me Somehow though I knew it wasn't the right choice As I made my first step down there was silence I breathed in a sharp silent breath of composure Continuing to the second step, I winced as I heard a creek But I stopped and lightly tested the step again The sound hadn't been caused by me Quickly my vision darted upwards towards my room At the far end of the hallway where I had just left I saw something, a blur like a thick vapor The shadow black wall behind obscured it I had no time to peer into the darkness I sped up, step by step by step 31 steps in total all without a sound Save for the floor I landed on in my haste The old house groaned beneath my weight My neck chilled as I gave in and ran to be continued...
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Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 9:28 AM UTC
Ever Tall
I could feel the cool damp air from outside A gentle weight on the skin, a particular smell The smell of a night stretched on too long I tiptoed across the carpeted floor boards The house was old and I knew it well Every little area it would groan and creek I was moving slowly but urged myself faster This wasn't like other nights, half asleep Wandering to the bathroom at the end of the hall No, the house is empty, or should I dare say was I felt a presence so strong, yet undefinable As if something was nearly upon me, only breaths away I avoided deftly the creaky areas of the floor beneath I felt the give of the wood beneath me as I reached the stairs This would prove far more difficult to be silent for Standing at the top I contemplated running down As fast as my legs could possibly carry me Somehow though I knew it wasn't the right choice As I made my first step down there was silence I breathed in a sharp silent breath of composure Continuing to the second step, I winced as I heard a creek But I stopped and lightly tested the step again The sound hadn't been caused by me Quickly my vision darted upwards towards my room At the far end of the hallway where I had just left I saw something, a blur like a thick vapor The shadow black wall behind obscured it I had no time to peer into the darkness I sped up, step by step by step 31 steps in total all without a sound Save for the floor I landed on in my haste The old house groaned beneath my weight My neck chilled as I gave in and ran to be continued...
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she awoke in the duskiest night in the ever-shrinking embrace of the light tore at the metal, that blameless steel (winced as her teeth forgot to feel) nails meet gums, and gums won't heal nail beds make contact with rubber and blood; veins escape skin, then unleash to flood fingertips betray goosebumps and you call this love? one morning mama had a nasty surprise her sweet little angel was filled up with lies lash to lids, blood covered her eyes and all that remained of her braces were flies.
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
braces
"Oh!" Signal from wound to brain Pain from lips to ears Feet shuffle and stop Water runs and ceases Red drops on silver Light bouncing off Eyes winced Fingers squeeze slice To the bathroom In the cabinet Out comes a bandage Over it wraps Heart still racing Blood still pumping Pain still present Raw pulsation Rough sensation Pure frustration
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Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
Injury
They looked behind the mushroom Turned every leaf over to inspect Gathered all the little people in a row every bird, the mice, each little insect. "Have you seen the Easter eggs" they were asked They all smiled and said of course not. Someone knew where they were The Elf walked the ranks like a Sergeant Major Looking for a sign on their polka faces. No, they knew nothing, Of course they did. "Where is the Easter Bunny" the Elf cried. "Bring the fellow here to me!" The Bunny with guilt written across his face shiffled forward passing the basket to the ladybird as he presented himself to the Elf. "Nothing to declare, you Majesty" said the Bunny "Dont get funny with me" suggested the Elf I can smell a plan a mile away Sunny Jim" The insects giggled a bit under their breath as the Elf frog marched towards them "Know something do we" ..then the birds laughed. They laughed so much the fell over. The Magpie stood firm and confronted the Elf "We know nothing" and burst into uncontrollable laughter. The Elf failed to see the funny side and winced. The Ladybirds had giggled their spots off The Butterfly was whizzing in circles dreaming Then it was spotted. The basket had been spotted. Crammed with Easter Eggs and delights. And it had one wish. To everyone. It said "Happy Easter". It did.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
Easter Egg Hunt
DURING THIS VISIT I am a layman laid up with a very dodgy ankle that winced about Paris for almost a week with every footaghhhhhhhfall. Now it's the A&E; for me. The electronic noticeboard flashes up its what nots faster than I can scan. I barely catch CQC Good( shadow )Rating. Two wheelchairs (peopleless) chat about the this of that typical wheelchair chit-chat. A portable X-ray machine pretends to be a giraffe. "oooooOOOOK...we are going to get Geoff the Giraffe to have a look at that!" The child smiles through the pain. The screen peppers me with possibilities. Extremely likely? Neither Likely nor Unlikely? Etc., etc., etc. My mind opts for a simple I Don't Know. "Breast." says the screen." "Max Fax & Orthodontics." "Re-hab shouldn't be boring!" A questionnaire asks me to think. Big mistake. I start to think. Pain & Boredom turns these hospitalised facts ( what ever they mean? ) into a something only my brain can understand. "And now, straight in at No.! with a fantastic new single it's... ...Max Fax & The Orthodontics with the glorious bouncy BREAST!" "MORTALITY by The Upper Quartile falls down one place to No. 2!" My shadow is feeling very poorly at this instant in time. Hasn't even bothered to turn up. There goes my good (shadow)rating. I think I'll switch to silhouette instead. I practice my Ogham. SAT 4 APRIL says the clock. It's hands joined together in prayer. I switch off my mind & float down stream.
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Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
WE WOULD LIKE YOU TO THINK ABOUT YOUR EXPERIENCE IN THE A&E DEPARTMENT
What good can come from words of mine, In open, blank or crafted rhyme; Could they affect a single mind, And if so, for how long a time. If my heartaches touched you Because of what you read, I know you understand My truth needs to be said. If what you read Brought pallid tears Over your quick and dead; Or the words I chose to write my lines Cast shadows before your blocked sunshine; Or wrote good and bad of family and friends, Of our descents and our ascends, Or a general lack of recompense, I truly make amends. If you felt shame or remorse, Don't rue the day you read my verse. (You see, I concur with your every curse) But if you winced or held a giggle, Rolled your eyes at some recognition Of our shared quixotic plight, Then I'm pleased to get it right.
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Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Don't Rue the Day You Read That Verse
I did not think those words you said Would make me feel this sad Or that confirmation of what I already  knew Could hurt my heart so bad I guess I blinded myself Out of fear for misery It was easier saying I believed you Than to stand ground and disagree Plus putting you down for past mistakes Would not help the situation Degrading wouldn't decrease disappointment Only increase aggravation You do not need to hide the past Heard you mumble words you will not repeat "I'll never cheat and hurt you again" I did not even miss a beat I winced slightly though you did not see Luckily we were joined by phone It suffocated my grieving heart I kept my hurt feelings unknown It was hard keeping my voice even Harder to focus on yours I pondered ***** details Many possibilities explored I've been aware of your disloyalty For some time now Yet tore heart more than expected Hearing it spoken aloud Pretended not to notice Told myself I did not care Your friendship is too dear to me To lose over an old affair I think of all that we have been through Indiscretions I chose to let slide The lying, betrayal, and pointless games Trying though hard to put the past aside Leave your mistakes, and mine behind Believing it is possible to change No matter how I wish you to Only my head has been rearranged It was I who wanted to know the truth It sounds different than I thought it would Discovering getting what you wished for Does not always feel that good.
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
The Truth Will Set You Free Even If You Didn't Know You Were Caged
The barrel rested between his eyes, against his nose. his eyes were closed. he never dared to breathe. he just listened. with every shot, earth shattering boom, he winced. the bodies of brothers friends and strangers surrounded him in bits. and in one weak moment of prayer, of desperation, he wanted his mother. and the last thing he heard was the shot meant for him.
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Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 6:06 PM UTC
Little Scared Soldier
It was dawn when I awoke, And felt for your arms usually close, And frowned when I found only bed sheets Where your body should have been. It took only a second for the panic to hit, For my heart to sink and skip a beat, For my thoughts to drift back to yesterday, And wonder if I had somehow pushed you away. The whisper of a voice reached me first, Laced in an accent that was entirely yours, As you tiptoed around our messy nest, Careful, as to not disturb my rest. Then the smell of bait and coffee reached my nostrils, Unexpectedly, making my forehead wrinkle, As you stifled an early-morning yawn, And I shifted and pretended to sleep on. You took a minute to fix your hook, Sat down to lace your boots, Picked up your fishing tools from the floor And made your way towards the front door. I winced at every departing steps, As the floorboards sighed in protest, But instead you tiptoed to my side of the bed And placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. And just like that I forgot about my worries, All of yesterday’s bad memories, And smiled as you left the room. I wondered if you somehow knew, Of my breaking dawn blues.
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
Breaking Dawn Blues
the sky was grey and i couldn't feel my body. my head was heavier than suburban slammed doors, and the presence of sidewalk strangers sent trembles of panic through to my core. my ears are already pierced, but i winced at high school football whistles and garbage trucks and rattling engines and raised voices. do you remember the museum? do you remember burying your head in your dad's shoulder because the world they warned you about was too grey for your hazel eyes and golden soul? don't forget. it is not a world you have to live in. you must not find safety in greyness. there is none for you there
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Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 1:36 PM UTC
museum memory
Your voice, It echoes through my head like a broken recorder, banging the insides with, "change, change, change..." I, did not fit. So, I twisted my limbs and squashed my head to fit into your little mould. Umpteenth effort; days of churning and weeks of wringing. I, winced in pain and groaned in despair. The crucifixion happened as, I, heard me snap. Now it chews on my skin and clings onto my flesh, as if it was all tailor-made beforehand. I stride towards you with assurance that now, I am perfect. That now, maybe you'll love me more. But, you looked at me with a gaze so familiar that it pierces my heart into crumbs that resemble oatmeals and dust. You said, "you've changed".
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
"you've changed"
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is ****** but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
0
1.5k
I. M. R. T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899)
It was raining hard outside and a cold wind was blowing briskly from the north. I ducked under the outside awning of a local bar named Easy Pete's but still felt the torrent of raindrops crashing into me. I opened the heavy bar room door and walked inside to a dimly lit room accented with the sound of pool tables being played, gambler chatter, and thick cigar smoke. My eyes winced at the sting of smoke and adjusted to the lack of light. I looked around but did not note much outside of the elderly somewhat disgruntled faces either looking at me, their drink, or their games. The jukebox played an old song that I could not place but had the vague notion that it existed somewhere in a childhood that I had moved myself away from too many times to count. I hummed along, finding the melody along the way and worked my way up to the bar and ordered three glasses of single malt scotch from a questionable bartender that had one lazy brown eye and the other, icy blue in its color, stared at me. I ignored him and drank the first glass of scotch as he put it down. He gruffed his throat, sat down the other two glasses, and walked away. I continued to drink the scotch when a long legged ****** sidled up to me and asked if I was looking for a good time. I found myself remembering the good times. Back when there were good times to remember. The jukebox changed its tune and I became even more out of touch. I passed the third glass to her and she sat closer, wrapping her fingers around the glass and sensually stroking away the condensation that had built up. I finished the rest of my glass of scotch, looked the ****** up and down. She was beautiful. And slutty. The way that I liked them. But I was tired. And not looking for a good time. I was content with my miserable existence tonight. She made for small talk and I made for the door.
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Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Looking For A Good Time At Easy Pete's?
It was raining hard outside and a cold wind was blowing briskly from the north. I ducked under the outside awning of a local bar named Easy Pete's but still felt the torrent of raindrops crashing into me. I opened the heavy bar room door and walked inside to a dimly lit room accented with the sound of pool tables being played, gambler chatter, and thick cigar smoke. My eyes winced at the sting of smoke and adjusted to the lack of light. I looked around but did not note much outside of the elderly somewhat disgruntled faces either looking at me, their drink, or their games. The jukebox played an old song that I could not place but had the vague notion that it existed somewhere in a childhood that I had moved myself away from too many times to count. I hummed along, finding the melody along the way and worked my way up to the bar and ordered three glasses of single malt scotch from a questionable bartender that had one lazy brown eye and the other, icy blue in its color, stared at me. I ignored him and drank the first glass of scotch as he put it down. He gruffed his throat, sat down the other two glasses, and walked away. I continued to drink the scotch when a long legged ****** sidled up to me and asked if I was looking for a good time. I found myself remembering the good times. Back when there were good times to remember. The jukebox changed its tune and I became even more out of touch. I passed the third glass to her and she sat closer, wrapping her fingers around the glass and sensually stroking away the condensation that had built up. I finished the rest of my glass of scotch, looked the ****** up and down. She was beautiful. And slutty. The way that I liked them. But I was tired. And not looking for a good time. I was content with my miserable existence tonight. She made for small talk and I made for the door.
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The freckles scattered across her face like maps leading me to a million different conclusions. She loves me she loves me not became a guessing game that I played daily, and it wasn't with flowers it was with the affection she gave me. One day, I touched her cold skin and she winced in pain, I looked into her eyes and she said. "It's barely holding together." But I told her her bones felt like metal covered in soft satin and she smiled. "Liked I said," she whispered. "Barley holding together." She was the type of girl that looked into the trees and looked at the forest, the wild things in the ground and the butterflies wings for she was just as soft and delicate. She was a rare case of the hiccups, she stopped your heart but always made sure it keeps beating after words. And I loved it. I loved how she had so much power over me, she made my knees shake like a train rushing down the tracks and when she kissed me she froze every part of my body. When I told her that her love for me was a guessing game she stopped and told me "Forever". She gave me words when I had none, the smoke that illuminated off her skin gave me a high that I ended up getting addicted to. I loved her so much and she just went and killed herself. She killed herself and took a part of me with her because the day she said "forever" was a lie. She hated lies and she ******* stopped my heart like the rare case of hiccups she was and forgot to check if it was still beating. She left me alive but emotionless. Empty. She ended me. The maps on her cheeks where a dead end.
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Her
The freckles scattered across her face like maps leading me to a million different conclusions. She loves me she loves me not became a guessing game that I played daily, and it wasn't with flowers it was with the affection she gave me. One day, I touched her cold skin and she winced in pain, I looked into her eyes and she said. "It's barely holding together." But I told her her bones felt like metal covered in soft satin and she smiled. "Liked I said," she whispered. "Barley holding together." She was the type of girl that looked into the trees and looked at the forest, the wild things in the ground and the butterflies wings for she was just as soft and delicate. She was a rare case of the hiccups, she stopped your heart but always made sure it keeps beating after words. And I loved it. I loved how she had so much power over me, she made my knees shake like a train rushing down the tracks and when she kissed me she froze every part of my body. When I told her that her love for me was a guessing game she stopped and told me "Forever". She gave me words when I had none, the smoke that illuminated off her skin gave me a high that I ended up getting addicted to. I loved her so much and she just went and killed herself. She killed herself and took a part of me with her because the day she said "forever" was a lie. She hated lies and she ******* stopped my heart like the rare case of hiccups she was and forgot to check if it was still beating. She left me alive but emotionless. Empty. She ended me. The maps on her cheeks where a dead end.
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