If victory had a taste, it would taste like sweet sorrow. For with a victory, often comes loss. The perfect blend of joy and pain. It would taste like a sweet fruit with a bitter aftertaste. There is much beauty in this fruit. But take to much and it becomes a stone lodged in your throat. Be carful how much you take. With most victories come feasts and dances, honors are given and titles bestowed....

Ah, victory. There are many forms of it, each having its own distinct flavor.

Victory, when sudden and surprising, tastes like the air captured by your mouth on a rollercoaster, brief blasts of wind invading your senses, swallowed up excitedly.

Victory, when achieved over an enemy in a long game of chess, is felt as the tongue pushes against the edge of teeth, bringing forth a slight coppery ta...

If victory had a literal taste, it would taste like citrus. Like peeling an orange or grapefruit, you would smell victory first; bright and sharp. Like peeling a tangerine or slicing a lemon, victory is always a little bit messy. But the moment you first taste victory, like citrus, it is bright and made of little bursts of happiness. If victory had a literal taste, it would taste of citrus....

Some people ask me.

_“What does victory taste like?”_

Only I could possibly know.

It tastes like your enemy’s salty tears.

Like revenge.

Like they finally understand how terrible she is.

How she takes advantage of you.

How privileged she is.

How she acts when no one’s looking.

How she was just crushed by the weight of your sadness.

Like she finally understands how terrible being you is.

How terr...

“…….-“

“Nevermind.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

It doesn’t matter.

I swear it doesn’t matter.

I’d never tell you anything that really did matter,

So the little things don’t matter either.

I don’t care about that stupid little anecdote.

I’m not bothered by failing my math quiz.

I don’t mind that I never say anything of value.

I completely agree, I’m last on your to-do list.

I couldn’t care less that I n...

As the High Lord laid in wait, he dreamed of his congregation's victory.

His Goldflow had revealed to their people the ancient wealth of the Old World, not just the treasure within the strongholds, but the knowledge in bringing the New World to its rightful glory.

His Churchead had collected his faithful following. His people understood the necessity of unity and they served to see destiny ful...

Blood. Death. Pain. Depression. Short accomplishment. She stood over the body of her dad. She smiled. That's what it tasted like to them. All she tasted was confidence. She took the map out of his pocket. She laughed. Easy. Now she had to kill her stupid sister. She didn't know who would be in her way. _That_ was a mistake. A big one. Stars don't bend unless you force them.

HardCoreWriter- this...

Victory has a taste like a bite of a juicy orange on a hot day. A bursts of hydration that sustains life in every cell in your body. Its sweetness has a nutritious balance encouraging a dopamine boost. Victory has a taste that’s so good you evoke the urges of glutton and greed. You want to share this taste with others who want to experience such goodness. Victory tastes superb. Its exquisite taste...

If victory had a taste, it could be rich like fine wine being drank from golden chalices at a victory feast. It could taste like cold water, refreshing after a long, hard and challenging race. Victory can taste bitter and sour to those who sacrificed everything, asking themselves if it was worth it. No matter the flavor, Victory is still drunk from the same cup we call a trophy. ...

There he was—beneath the dim, damp lamppost,

My love and the thief holding so close.

Her laughter rang, a delicate tone.

But I craved what she called her own.

She kissed him passionately, her smile sweet.

My heart is bitter, worn, and incomplete.

Taking back what’s mine, obsessions outweigh.

But a battle, a challenge, a game to play.

They kiss goodbye, their bodies part.

The sight heats my brittl...