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vivian écrit
🤞... yes, i am that one person here who never uses caps
![vivian écrit](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Ffirebasestorage.googleapis.com%2Fv0%2Fb%2Fprompt-6db57.appspot.com%2Fo%2Fusers%252FlyPlNRQ8ZvMDoeil9P2mjyrNH5Y2%252Fprofile_image_128x128.jpg%3Falt%3Dmedia%26token%3De75e96fc-57ce-4dc2-bb5b-f3a65bab4cb1&w=256&q=75)
vivian écrit
🤞... yes, i am that one person here who never uses caps
🤞... yes, i am that one person here who never uses caps
🤞... yes, i am that one person here who never uses caps
you were always beautiful beautiful beautiful, not just one beautiful, always three:
but maybe that was just because my eyes were closed.
*note: btw yall i got published (yay!) in this really pretty online journal - pls check it out if you're bored: thetiderises.org.org...
"are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his hand hovering above the door.
i nod. "it's the only way."
"because i just really don't want to see you-"
"hey." i put my hand on his arm, and he stops. "you know i have to."
he looks at me for a long moment before sighing. "yeah. i know."
i try to smile, but it's too small and too toothless. "don't worry."
his eyes remain serious. "she's not w...
you take a deep breath and fold your arms on the breakfast table. "mother," i say. "father. there's something i'd like to discuss with you."
"yes?" father replies, his eyes never lifting from his newspaper. mother lifts a tea cup to her lips.
"i don't want an arranged marriage," you announce. "i want to marry somebody who i love."
mother pauses at the word, but then she continues to carefully a...
there's a storm coming,
the gathering clouds whisper.
there's a storm coming,
the sounds of thunder say.
there's a storm coming,
the dark sky murmurs.
there's a storm coming,
hisses the rain.
there's a storm coming,
mumbles the weeping flowers.
there's a storm coming,
the cast-aside umbrella chides.
there's a storm coming,
moans the strewn carcasses.
there's a storm coming,
giggles the swarmin...
"jump with me."
"what?"
"come on, jump with me."
i looked down, the rocky ground spreading out miles below the edge of the cliff. i looked back up, a smile slowly spreading out across your face and into mine. "you're crazy."
"this, this is not crazy." i raised my eyebrows. "okay, maybe this is a little crazy. but the good kind," you said.
"there is no good kind. there's just the crazy kind," ...
staring at your face, i
tried to find some sort of flaw.
a pimple maybe, or a bigger eye.
the more i looked though, the more
desperate i became. why
were you so flawless? i'd
take anything, a scar by
your hairline even. still, the more
i looked, the more knew i couldn't lie
to you or me or anybody
who saw me staring, for you were my
perfection. you're just perfection.
and that's when my throat ...
after carefully clasping the necklace, i let the wooden icon of jesus dying on the crucifix hang limply in front of my chest. then, wiping away my tears, i smile at him in the mirror and whisper: "well if i'm going to hell, i swear to god that i'm dragging you down with me."
christ just stares back at me, speechless....
the man slowly traced the edge of his coffee mug. it was getting cold, and she still wasn't here. of course she wasn't.
he sighed and checked his watch. she said that she would be here at nine, but it was past ten by now and the chair across from him was still empty. of course it was; she may never show, but she did always make sure to leave an empty chair behind.
of course, after waiting here ...