Tag: woman

Depression

I suddenly feel his warm breath on my neck, the colossal heat of his tongue. His scruff tickles my shoulder, grazing his lips to make soft, small kisses along my skin, the length of my throat. I shuffle in the sheets to press my bare back against his chest, and he places his hand between…

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Infidelity

His fingers caress the skin on her back, tracing along the lines of her shoulder blades and down the length of her spine. Their bodies are twisted within white bed sheets, surrounding their limbs and heated flesh as they calm their breaths. Her bones continue to tremble from his doing, eyes still closed from the…

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Why I Kill

People ask me why I take pleasure in killing men. What is it about the crime that makes my toes curl, my eyes darken? Why do I enjoy taking their power away, the one thing that makes them men? Why do I crave their blood, feast on their pain, thirst their screams and their heartless,…

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The Uninvited Guest

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands, pinning me against the wall. He grips my chin with such force, it almost gives me a fright. I’m not supposed to be here, if that wasn’t obvious enough. He made that perfectly clear this morning with his hand around my throat, ensured there would be…

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Remember Us, Always

I take a small sip of this champagne, feeling it warm my senses as it travels down my throat, attempting to smile at each guest my husband introduces me to, all the guests he does business with. Most are men of course, their wives by their sides, smoothing their tuxes as they shake my hand…

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A Woman, Like Me, Must Write

I’m aware of what they think of me. I’m aware of what they say. I’m used to the degradation, the belittlement, the constant criticism of my ways. I’m a woman of stature, but of course, men don’t like confident girls, girls who are too sure of themselves. Confidence is sexy to many, but a woman…

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A Fair Game to Play

*A dark, chilling fiction short story for the Halloween season I can feel it in my bones; the rage, the anger, manifesting deep inside my blood, a thirsty beast in its cage. I have this urge, you see, to have you kneel before me and beg, to draw blood from your fragile flesh with the…

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Gravity

I keep writing bits and pieces, leave a story unfinished, unpolished by man, a woman at her best. I believe this to be a metaphor, and a good one at that. I’m being rewritten at the dome, reconstructed by the bell, become a narrative unfinished at the workings of God, polishing my beauty with grace.…

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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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The Child in Need

I’m restless. I’m breathing. I’m crying. I’m restless. I’m breathing. I’m dying. I’m restless. Uncomfortable. I think being alone…this alone…forces me to grieve. It forces me to dive into darkness, confront the fears, the irrevocable silence. I’ve been staring at this white screen for hours, days, weeks…and I’ll begin to write something, type a letter,…

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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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A Little Letter to My Exes

Dear My Ex-Lovers, Don’t think it’s a privilege that I’ve written about you. Don’t think it’s an honor that your name casts behind the beauty of my work. You’re not allowed to take credit for my words. You’re not entitled to praise to others that you have inspired the pieces of art. Let’s not lie…

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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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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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