Write Quotes

Ten Word Stories: #4
Love is the way he kisses you when you're alone.
You can't be done
when you never did anything to begin with.
Ten Word Stories: #3
The words we never said are breaking my very bones.
Ten Word Stories: #2
I waste all of my days thinking about you, darling.
Ten Word Stories: #1
I'm use to being secondary to everyone, even you too.
"I'm terrified." She whispered.
It made him ache all over that he couldn't
fix it. That he couldn't make it all go away.
It was clawing at his insides until he felt
like the lowest human being on earth.
He couldn't promise they would be okay,
because the empty words wouldn't form
on his tongue. He just swallowed the
semi-solid lies down, and replied with
the one truthful thing there. "Me too."
Maybe I'm almost blind,
                                  because somehow
                       I misread all of your signs.
 

 

 
I once built a box
in the back of my mind
and I herded all of my
thoughts of you into it.
They sat obediantly,
teeth and claws in check,
watchful.
So long as I fed them--
acknowledged them every
once in a while.
But somehow, one day,
I forgot they were there
in the dead silence where
I thought I was alone.
So they tore the box to shreds,
and did the same with my heart.




 
 
 

 




 

 

 

i. i write about a girl with electric skin and how i’m never sure if her touch will kill me or bring me back to life, i write about the smell of her hair and the way her cheek dimples when she smiles and it feels right, it feels easy as breathing, but my sister says show me something you wrote and suddenly it’s like i’m a criminal on the witness stand and i’m wishing now that i’d burned every page.

ii. when i say i want to be a writer my dad laughs and tells me fiction is just lies in pretty wrapping, and i should be upset but all i can feel is relief, like this is one more way for me to hide, like i’ll be okay if i only ever have to speak about love in metaphors and if someone asks i can say oh, it’s just fiction, i can turn it into a joke, i can use it as a shield.

iii. my cousins will bring their boyfriends to christmas, they’ll bring bottles of wine that i’ll reach for like weapons while too-curious aunts ask for the third/fourth/fifth time if i have a boyfriend, and each time i say no, not a boyfriend i know they’re thinking of my cousin who had boys wrapped around as many fingers by the tenth grade and it will not even occur to them that my idea of happiness has nothing to do with a man.

iv. i write about a girl and give her a hundred names, hiding all the evidence that leads back to me, but every word is a fingerprint marked in ink and i’m counting down the days until i’m forced to come clean.
 
I have to write a paper on a friwnd of mine that died in a texting and driving accident two years ago. Everyone in my class keeps offering condolences, but honestly it feels good to remember him. 

 
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