Poem Quote #7042455
all quotes · poem · poetry · prose · wordvomit · itsbeenrainyandhot ·

For a while, the rain hitting my window Sounded like gunshots.

For a while, the rain hitting my window
Sounded like gunshots.
I would sit back against my curtain,
And count the bullets.

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gloomy

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posted May 11, 2015 at 8:52pm UTC tagged with poem, poetry, prose, wordvomit, itsbeenrainyandhot, ifeelwoesome, quote

more quotes by gloomy

Dear you, Hey stranger. Remember how I would always take the longest showers, and you would get so frustrated? Lately I’ve noticed, though I suspect it’s always been this way and I just haven’t realized, my shower head has been making the most awful, shrill noises when it’s turned on for too long. It’s the kind of noise that makes you lose your train of thought, and I've wondered if it’s part of the reason why you didn’t come back. I tried everything to make it stop; twisting it, lowering the pressure, taking it apart; and nothing has worked. I can’t think at all like I used to be able to, so I’ve had less time to sort out my emotions. But I guess I can’t complain, it’s warm and showers aren’t really for thinking, they’re for getting clean. I used to hang up wrinkled shirts in the bathroom while I showered so that the steam could straighten them out—you and I both know I would be disastrous with an iron—but lately they’ve been staying wrinkled. I’ve turned the water on as hot as it will go to make more steam, but the shirts remain wrinkled even then. Naturally, the steam fogs up my mirror now, so it’s difficult to see myself. But there’s a small spot where, (I have no idea who did it, but I have the strangest feeling it was you) if I squint, I can barely make out my irises. It’s not much, but it’s enough for me to brush my hair in the right direction most mornings.
Drabble #49 – 花様年華 The sun is shining, and maybe I’m just daydreaming but you always seem to have the most beautiful gold flecks glittering just under your skin, like someone crumbled up the moon and sprinkled it across your cheeks. I kind of like that—how you get under my skin and stay there, like you belong. There are two cars parked on the side of the road and you’re resting against one, singing that song I hate. There’s a wrench in your hand that you keep tossing up, letting it spin in the air and glint against the sun, like gold flecks.

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