Little Mouse
This is a great community! Thank you for taking the time to read my short stories and poetry :)
Little Mouse
This is a great community! Thank you for taking the time to read my short stories and poetry :)
This is a great community! Thank you for taking the time to read my short stories and poetry :)
This is a great community! Thank you for taking the time to read my short stories and poetry :)
At the start I was told he was broken, But that's okay I can glue him back together. But he'll complain and ignore you, I'll just bring up the weather.
I can fix him, That's what everybody says. I'll just clean all the scars, What if it was him that made the mess.
What's that purple ring on your arm? Progress that he's better. He says his ex made him like this, Have you ever even met her?
Sometimes he's sweet and gives me soft little kisses Thats's only because hickeys hide bruises. he appologises though and gives me pretty things, Not every fight can be resolved with cruises.
He says that he loves me and I know that it's true, He lied when he said he wants her. Have you ever thought and wondered that your a victim, When does a man become a monster?
Lets put on a mask to hide our feelings, it might be handy one day. Tug it in your grasp and never let it go. that's what they all love to say.
'We've all been through it, its all right', as they tug your hand far away, you never get to play.
No one ever see's the tears against your cheeks and your thankful, no one hears the grinding gears and your okay. But deep in your heart you know that its wrong, you do it anyway.
Rotting away in that dark space that you call home. wishing someone would ask about you but you're always alone. Just shut your eyes child it will only hurt for now, your being a big baby, just plaster a smile and take a bow.
Cry this second and let it all show, tell them your trauma and the way the wind blows. Tear out your heart and sit it on stage, for this is who you are and they should know, its the demon they have made.
If I could count all the ways I love you and write it all down, if I could list them on my fingers and draw it all out;
The list would never end, I’d have no space left to draw, I’d run out of fingers, And my voice would become raw.
I love your voice, Your personality, They way your hand fits in mine, I love the way you laugh and make witty jokes, I even love it when you whine.
I love the way you let me play with your hair, I love the way you dress, I love your piercing brown eyes, I love how they can look green under all the mess.
I love the way you kiss, I love how I know every scar on your hands, I love how you smile differently around me, And how we talk about plans.
I love it when you draw blue on your hand, And fidget with your pen, I love the fact that your human, And that no one else understands.
I love that your broken, It reminds me it’s okay, The dark can break us all, But next to you I feel at bay.
Life can be shit, We both know that, You better than me, But I love the fact that we can cry together, It feels less lonely.
I love the way you make me cry, When you walk away from us, I love it when you remind me sometimes not even I can be enough.
I love the fact that you moved on, And shards of glass still lay beneath your feet, I love that you still make me smile, Every single time we meet.
I love that you changed from blue to black, I love the new designs, I love the way she brushes your hair different, And the way she doesn’t know your whines.
I love that she still doesn’t understand, I love how she doesn’t know the smile, I love that she hasn’t discovered the green yet, I love that she will only stay a while.
I love that you turned her broken, And how you dress differently now, I love that your starting to change, And that I don’t even know how.
How someone so special to me can turn away, And how I cry every night, I love that your not here with me after you said forever, But forever is different now.. Since the fight.
I love that she’s probably going to say the same thing when you move on to the next, I love that you did this to the girl before me, I love that we all failed your test.
I love the way we all think we’re the one, I love the way boys are evil, I love they way you broke us all, I love how it all isn’t illegal.
If I count the ways I love you, It all ends in distress, Because in the end it doesn’t matter how I know your scars, Or the way you dress.
I counted the ways I love you, And it doesn’t end well, I love that you don’t care. And I love the fact there once was a page in my book that I didn’t mind to tell.
Her POV:
I can smell the scent of alcohol on his breath whenever he talks to me. Don’t try yelling at him for it because it doesn’t work, I speak from experience. He is basically a man child that doesn’t know how to take care of himself. The cockiness is borderline toxic to whoever he is around, and if I knew any better I guess that would probably be the reason for why there is only a small group of people who actually put up with him. (Most of them are just pitiful girls who just like him because he’s rich, although I would be lying if I said that didn’t have something to do with the fact that I have put up with him for so long) I’ll never ever tell him that he is annoying or rude though, because apart from the fact that it makes me want to punch him in the face I have to come to terms with his personality as it is without trying to sink to his level and instead raise above and beyond it. I eyeball him discreetly as he walks into the room. He is taller than me by… a lot. My head is just below his chin and it makes my blood boil the way he so purposefully stands closer than necessary to me, just to make me look shorter. I look up at him and my heart almost skips a beat and my emotions start going rapid just by the way he stares at me with his amber, honey-soaked eyes. Luckily I get distracted by his hair, it’s messy and short, falling just below his eyes, I could go weak just by looking at his hair, the way it’s so perfectly curly and almost as black as the colour itself. I think I have a thing for curly hair I ponder to myself as I try to picture him without it, seeing if it would help tear my eyes away from this man. He almost seems like my dream guy, the type that I could like, maybe even love… But then his mouth starts moving and I remember why the Oxford dictionary decided to make so many synonyms for the word hate, because sometimes one just doesn’t cut it.
His POV:
People say roses are the most beautiful scent, but when I walk into the room and smell her perfume it makes me wonder if those people ever fell in love. If I ever confess my feelings for her she would probably laugh in my face and say I was drunk, I speak from experience. I would take her hand and say something over the top cheesy like; ‘Yes, drunk on you my love.’ But something tells me that I would probably never see her again afterwards. She is basically an angel sent down from heaven, trying to get through a hellish like world. Her outlook on life is contagious when ever you talk to her, she isn’t pessimistic or optimistic even, she see’s both sides of the argument and twists them both into a beautiful quote that will stick with someone the way ink sticks to paper. My best guess is that’s why she has so many suitors lined up just to meet her. (Most of them are stupid jerks that just want her for looks, although I would be lying if I said I never took that into account when talking to her day after day.) I’ll never tell her that she’s beautiful though, why? Because it would be like telling the ocean that it’s wet, it would be like telling fire it’s hot. She clearly already knows and doesn’t need my validation in the slightest. As I walk in to see her in the room I try my best not to make eye contact. I quickly fail and look over at her, I’m happy and surprised to see her already looking at me. I can’t tell whether she is starstruck at the sight of me or furious for the fact that she has to put up with me. Probably starstruck. It is a little concerning on how much I love how short she is, I walk closer to her to emphasise how small she is compared to me. I am saddened when I look at the blue contrasting greatly with the black bags under her eyes. Her gorgeous icy blue eyes. Her chocolate brown hair is tied up in a messy bun and all it makes me think about is how she never gets to let it down and be loose or even have fun. Her personality like hair, always tied up and never let down. I sometimes wonder, even for a second. Am I wasting my time? Will I ever be in an actual relationship with this woman? There are so many other options it makes me think whether I am in love or just obsessed… But then she opens her mouth and I recall why the English language made up so many different words for the meaning beautiful. Because sometimes one just doesn’t cut it.
Everyone at school was asked to say their biggest fear. As we went around the room I heard people say very obvious phobias, such as; clowns, spiders and heights. But when it was my turn to speak I said “The mirror”. I got laughed at and called an idiot, but if they knew the things the mirror said to me they would be scared too.
I look in the mirror and see my insecurities like a list on a wall. “You’re not skinny enough.” The mirror insisted
So I starved myself and became skinnier.
I looked in the mirror once again hoping it would now be happy. “Go eat a burger or something your a twig.” The mirror dictated.
So I ate a lot of food and after a few months I wasn’t skinny anymore.
I looked in the mirror again asking if it was happy now. “Eww your fat go work out.” The mirror exclaimed
So I worked out, I did exercise and I started to become more and more fit.
I looked in the mirror begging to ask if it was satisfied. No thoughts broke into my mind. “I was finally free, I thought!”
I went to school the next day having a smile on my face for the first day in months. I played football at lunch and got weird looks from all the boys when they saw how fast I was. “Eww girls shouldn’t have that much muscle on them, you should be more petite and feminine.” A boy explained to me.
So I stopped playing football and sat down.
When I got home I looked in the mirror once again hoping to feel better about myself when the mirror spoke up. “Why did he say that, I thought I was finally good enough for you?!” I sobbed softly to the mirror. “It’s because your not pretty enough.” The mirror argued.
So I covered every inches of my face and all my flaws vanished.
I felt perfect and as pretty as ever, I was finally good enough I thought. I looked in the mirror feeling as weak as ever praying that I was pretty enough and asked for its validation. “Your legs are too fat, your nose is too big, your ears stick out too much, your lips are too skinny, your too flat, you need more feminine features.”
A list was filling up my head of the things I needed to be and the things I needed to change he in order to be perfect. I tried so hard to change every part about me so I thought I was perfect. I was focusing so much on the bad things about me when I should have been focusing on the good. I was very beautiful but I couldn’t see that because it was hiding under all that make up and negative comments.
These people don’t know who I am and if they did they would run, On the outside I’m a young lady from a wealthy family, what other lies are there to be spun. All secrets are out, after all this time I have finally been caught, I don’t know if I should feel angry or relieved, I haven’t been properly taught. When it’s my time to speak I don’t want to be proven innocent, I want them to shout guilty as charged and for me to be locked away, Then I won’t have to deal with seeing this ugly side of society every single day. I see people on my side saying lies to the judge in order to let me go, Every time they open their mouths I want to jump up and scream “No!” Because all of these lies, every single one of them is simply not true, I don’t want to be underestimated for the things that I did and will do. I look around the room feeling empathetic for the lower class, They are nothing but worthless and it would be too easy to have them in the grass. I’m a criminal that no one suspects and that doesn’t make it great, It makes me sad to think that no one is caring or wondering why Felix is late.
No one can love someone as much as I love you, No one can get as warm as I, when I see your eyes full of blue. I like to think that we are made for each other but sadly I was wrong, It’s hard to think that one fight can mess up what we had for so long. Every time I see you with her, my heart hurts like it’s getting ripped apart, But I could never hate her, she is literally a work of art. I should of seen it coming I’m not even half as pretty as she is, When you looked into my eyes you saw silver but when you look into hers you see a golden abyss. I will always finish second because with her there is no competition, Just a single glance and you are wrapped around her finger just like a magician. I don’t want to get over you, I want to be there in your arms just like we both know I’m meant to be, But you seem much happier now with her as my replacement, you have already gotten over me. The worst feeling is seeing someone you used to love and talk to every day become a stranger, But let’s face the music; I’m still in love and when the feeling isn’t reciprocated I’m in severe danger. No one will ever love you as much as I and that is the sad truth, You will never see me the same way as you see your precious youth. Because the love we had was like the stories they tell in fairytales and maybe that’s where it should stay, Somewhere in a book where all real feelings are mute and locked far far… away.
I sat in the living room with my older brother waiting for my parents to come in and bring us to yet another boring interview. Every time we go there I want to scream and tell people the truth, but the pain I feel afterwards is stronger than my principles.
As my parents walk in the door I notice the blood stains on their clothes and the new riches and jewellery rapped around there greedy, petty selves. They like to think that they have everyone fooled. That everyone is too busy in their own world to notice what is happening behind all those closed doors. But I’m not as oblivious or naive as everyone else. I get suspicious when we earn millions of dollars all of a sudden or how huge mafia bosses all of a sudden die without warning or trace. I also notice when my parents show up a little later each night that an accident occurs. It doesn’t take much to connect the dots. Blood stained clothes, sudden riches and unexplained murders.
We have always been a family that comes from money. We have always been some what rich and more popular in wealth than most families (or cities). But the amount of expensive things we buy, the number of coins that are wasted on useless junk a week does not add up to the amount of profit we earn unless we get an additional billion every once in a while.
When my father caught onto me figuring out their little scheme, a cruel punishment was put in place so that no one else would find out. A small nudge would have been fine but no… A small shock, no… Something that makes the blood vessels in my head pop, something that mimics getting stabbed, yes…
… When my parents walk into the room to bring my brother and I to the interview, I eyeball the bloodstains on my fathers white buttoned up shirt. I don’t know how it works but a sudden feeling of pain shoots through my chest and I look down in shock and put my hands over it for pressure, expecting blood, when I realise it wasn’t real. I look over at my father now eyeballing me with a smug grin on my face, he doesn’t even need to say anything I could already tell he was saying “That was a warning.” I stand up and carry my ballgown off of the ground and walk my way towards the door after my brother and before my father. I waited for the vehicle to emerge in our driveway. Once the white limo arrived I got in and my father slammed the door. I looked out the window with the most bitchiest face staring at the man I once called my dad. He glared back at me and within an instant my face turned to the most happiest and child like smile ever.
I can’t control it…