Tag: prose

Situationship #2

I’ve been trying to write something that further defines the waves of the bay. But I’m unable to make it clever, to make it mean something to the desirable and the undesirable, and get an applause. I’m too honest for my own good… I’m sitting here in the room, in front of the water, watching…

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The Endgame

I’m sitting on the couch with my legs spread wide open, arching my back, biting my lip, drawing his eyes to that area between my legs, the one he can’t resist. He bites down on his tongue from moaning, beads of sweat appearing just above his brow. I watch his Adam’s apple move as he…

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I Did It Again

I did it again. One of the things I can’t seem to forgive myself for is how easy it is for men to fall romantically out of love for me. I use to believe that I was easy to love, harder to leave. But I was lied to. The truth is harder to hear. I…

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The Wait

The silence in this room is chilling, haunting, killing a mind with innocent thoughts and tragic emotions. It’s consuming a soul tortured by the still air, the stagnant flow of the dust. Rose, a name too sickening for her own naked ears to bare, only hears the ticking of the clock placed ironically by the front door, ticking…

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Moon Night

Legs shiver as if drenched in ice water. A heavy sensation fills my limbs. Slumber is almost by my door, but I try to keep my eyes open. The moonlight by my window makes me think of lullabies. My mother flips the pages of Goodnight Moon. Her dark figure by the bedside, a monster in…

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Dark Embrace

Winter fell in the house. AC was on full blast. Her little hands were icicles. The wooden floor creaked when she leaned against it. This was her new bed for the night. Her small pink teddy and a white blanket with stars, were her only comfort tonight. Her room was not an option. The dark…

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Missing You, Missing Us

Can we pretend for a second? Can we pretend the universe is mistaken?  Can you look into my eyes and unmask the reasons for loving me? I miss your delicate whispers and compliments in my ears, the licks on my earlobes, the sighs of your love. I miss your subtle kisses through the screen, as…

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First Heartbreak 2018

It’s a cruel scene, a tragedy to feel such a way, for a woman to experience a ruing pain. I’ve never felt so broken and betrayed, never sobbed so recklessly that my lungs could barely breathe. They asked about love and the meaning of it, and I truly believed I had it, that I was…

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Don’t Underestimate My Intelligence

People underestimate my intelligence. Scratch that. People don’t underestimate my intelligence, men do. I’m way smarter than I actually seem, and it’s a shame when you underestimate my intellect, my various capabilities. It might surprise you that I’m actually quite aware of your indiscretions and your ability to manipulate certain pieces of myself to make…

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Can You Hear Her?

There is this roar inside her body, a ghastly bellow inside her mind. And all she wants to do is listen to that rage and follow its howls, stand on the ledge of a ten story building and fucking scream. “AHHHHHHHH!” she shouts at the world, belts the wounds out into existence. It takes so…

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This is For Charity

He’s leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom with a loose tie around his neck, rolling up his sleeves as if anticipating work. He watches my fingers seductively pull my tights up around my propped up leg on the edge of the bathtub, and I stroke the fabric once it reaches my mid-thigh, snapping the…

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Damaged Goods

The damage struggle. The unwanted, unneeded, always left and abandoned—struggle.              We struggle to adapt to this life, stepping on carcasses as they rot from beneath, solidifying their death, knowing life is filled with pain and bile, turmoil and debris. We struggle to find our worth, if we are enough for one, for us, never wanting…

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Missing You

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “Shut up,” he mumbles. She looks over at him and rolls her eyes, scooting herself away from him. Leaving his back exposed and cold, she knows it would unnerve him to lose his warmth.  He rolls over and groans, “It was just a joke.” He can’t tell with his eyes…

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Recipe for Disaster

There is a certain essence to his beauty.  My eyes followed his giant hands from pot to pot, their bulging veins shaking hints of spice across the bubbling cauldrons. I’m mesmerized by his concentration on each dish, the tick in his jaw, the slight raise in eyebrows, the quiet mumbles underneath his breath, recollecting recipes…

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