Crystal Clear
EagerHalf days and holiday weekends only means more writing to look forward too. Though I feel like I'm lacking inspiration, like I need a log line, or a few keywords, something to make my mind take off.
The Perfect DayThe table nestled in the far right corner of the café I work at is empty, and I can’t help but feel more than a little disappointed. Nearly every week for the past two months you’ve stumbled through those pristine glass doors, tie hung carelessly around your neck, shirt untucked, hair tousled, and every time you do my heart skips a beat, like the little girl playing jump rope in my chest has spontaneously decided to increase her speed. The chair you pull out always screeches on the paneled floor, and countless faces always look up from their lattes to stare at you in dismay. I’ve noticed now, over time that the wood panelThe Perfect Day
Because of Winn-DixieIt wasn’t the way your brown tresses fell in front of your crystal blue eyes that sparkled like a new years eve champagne glass, it wasn’t the way you let your hand linger on the small of my back each time we entered through a wooden framed door, nor was it the way you folded your clothes neatly, kissed my cheek softly, and always asked if I was alright. It was the way my name sounded upon your lips, meaningful, pure, and gentle.Because of Winn-Dixie
Fondly is how I recall my memories with you, not spiteful or cruel, not sad and lonesome, but reminiscent, in the state of which one would think of a pleasant dream, only grabbing snapshots but never gra
Nobody's FoolEtched in black written neatly on the back of my hand are seven numbers, placed in a delicate font one after the other, a chorus line of what’s to come. Intently I stare at that patch of skin on which they cover, running the tip of my finger gently over top the digits, but soft and slow, it hopes to not erase them from my hand, but to absorb any lasting fragments of the girl who wrote them there. Carefully I stretch my fingers out nimbly, cautiously moving them up and down, the excitement and anticipation building within my body. My head feels heavy on this paper thin neck placed on these slender shoulders, and my form gives insight to my disNobody's Fool
Bad PoetryDear --,Bad Poetry
I began your letter at the stop sign on Third Street and lost it in a traffic jam on Hemming Way; you would've rolled your eyes at the name, so I tried to imagine you sitting beside me. That's what did it, of course--I had a perfectly good sentence and it went right out the window
with sentiment.
See there--I was trying to redeem myself by writing a poem, but apologetic prose doesn't like to share. I had grand illusions--something about a word o
by *trenchmaker
by *trenchmaker
You're lame.
I thought your comment was going to being something meaningful or something but all you said was fierce.
LOSER.
OHOHO, I'm so clever.
--
Kind of not.
I don't know.
=/
--
"Things Fall Down. People Look Up. And when it rains, it pours."
--
Suggest a Lit DD today!
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