ENG 0528-01 27278 AMERICAN LIT 1914-1960 3 11 5 ( Read more... )

I'm going to live my life as a bird, somewhere far off in a place of sunshine, a place where my feathers will burn off to reveal beautiful, tan skin. With lakes the color of your eyes, and just as wide, where I can finally feel as free as my soul craves. The sand on the ground will burn my feet the color of ash, and we will stroll through green ( Read more... )

I've imagined you incorrectly. Once with a string around your wrist, tied forever to something, somewhere. Second, your arms around me and it is TooHot. Always too hot, but so much skin! So much wonderful skin that my mind reels and tends to poison the moment, and everything feels like doom, although you do not feel it and speak of softwarm things ( Read more... )

i have thirty minutes left to live and all you do is force me into deciding things about your life for you in my last half of an hour ( Read more... )

i am currently drunk and it is five thirty in the morning on a saturday... day before? and i am thinking in depth about love and loss, but not really because i am drunk, and nothing really matters to anyone when it comes down to it. and it makes me sick. even the love that people claim to have had in the past does NOT exist. it is something else, ( Read more... )

I think I'm probably just a jealous person. jellies jellies jellies.

I was the first woman to see him in six years. That's what the guard said to me, anyway. I'm not entirely sure when the public started to see me as a woman and not a girl, or even simply as a youth, but somewhere along the way I guess I became a woman. Or maybe I was just the closest thing to it. I had to wear neutral clothes. Neutral. Beige, Gray ( Read more... )

you like. soft kisses. sweet things. babies made of gold. babies made of kittens. touching my hands. crooked teeth. endearing smiles. thighs wet. wet. wet. messages of heartbreak. heartfix. kisses on the neck. cuddling in the night. snow underneath blankets. kisses on the lips. skin to skin, breath to breath, lip to lip. hands hands hands. gypsy ( Read more... )

This morning on my way out the house from his arms I stole a spray of your perfume. The scent still lingers on me now, mixed with the smell of sex (lots of build up and no release) and the way my hair is starting to dread on its own. It reminds me of the clean sheets we used to share and the nights I would spend awake lying next to you. The days ( Read more... )

You haven't come up in a while, my mind hasn't conjured you up like it would conjure up a storm. For good reason, I think. The past should stay in the past, generally. This has taken me a year to get to. I have taken a year to get here. Two nights ago I gave away the scarf I had made you, the one you asked me to make for you. You said to make it ( Read more... )