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WearyWater commented on the post, casting 7 hours, 42 minutes ago
It fell away from his healed arm in large flakes. Grimacing, I tried to pick my way around the piles of casting material laying on the floor.
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WearyWater commented on the post, catapult 1 day, 8 hours ago
He practically catapulted himself over the furniture in his eagerness to greet me.
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zoe posted an update 1 day, 8 hours ago
That night. The night. It will always be cased in resin, perfectly preserved; the perfect night.
We both indulged in some psychedelics that night. Though, your trip was going downhill while mine soared. I could feel your uncomfortableness. It pulsed out to me like radio waves. You went away to try and purge yourself of the fungus that was tormenting you. You came back, still with fear painted on your face. You were not free from the spores. You said that they still had you in the palm of their hands. So we left, to the outdoors. As soon as the cool air hit my lungs, I felt intertwined, connected; to everything. I felt the life of everything pulse and breathe. I looked over to you, and some relief seemed to crawl upon your face.
We walked all over campus. I had not a clue where my feet were taking me, but they seemed to know. I was a passenger to my own body. My eyes took in the dark night, glistening with water droplets from the morning. Even in the death of the end of fall, there was still life. Lights glowed and danced, colors popped out from all depths of the spectrum. We walked, and followed to wherever my feet led us. For hours we wandered, lost in the tranquility.
We crossed a bridge, and you took my hand. Even in my state of mind, I knew this was monumental for you. Hand holding was not one of the fonder things on your list, so I treasured how your hand encased mine. So together we walked. Back to my room, hand in hand.
We hardly noticed the cold, though inside my room the warmth blanketed us. We lay on the bed, your head on my chest, looking at nothing but each other. You sit up, eyes still locked on mine. In that moment, I swear I felt your soul. I was so connected to you, and you to I.
And in that moment, you whispered, ”I love you.” -
WearyWater commented on the post, lullaby 2 days, 8 hours ago
I let lapping waters be my lullaby.
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WearyWater commented on the post, signed 3 days, 8 hours ago
He signed the contract with a swooping stroke of his pen.
“There,” he spat, angry furrow deepening between his brows. “Are you happy now?” -
WearyWater commented on the post, airstream 4 days, 7 hours ago
The earth cracked beneath our feet, emitting a thin, powerful airstream hot enough to scald our skin.
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cmsiena commented on the post, airstream 4 days, 12 hours ago
I love that you are human, with your beautiful veins and twitches and sighs. That we share the same airstream, that the ins and outs of your flaws fit like jigsaw pieces against mine. I love the way this is effortless, and even my exasperations vanish in the wake of your wholeness.
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Skäila commented on the post, manhattan 5 days, 4 hours ago
Manhattan, with its tall shivery buildings held in embraces of cold stone and silver glass, frozen in repose over the night sky and distant horizons. She loved Manhattan with its last two syllables tripping over each other on her tongue and the small personal cafes with their walls of warmth defrosting her face after a battle with the chill wind. She loved steadfast winter in Manhattan with streetlights shattering sparks over shiny stones embedded in the sidewalk asphalt, shining in rainbows against the stark black of the evening sky. She loved Manhattan in its death and its dark, and loved Manhattan all the more in its life and its light, accepting the city for what it was: a story cherished in the hearts of children, a dream crumpled at the bottom of a desolate, polluted river, a hope with wings spread against the shuttered landscape, a yearning desire to be free. Manhattan was all these things, and more.
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WearyWater commented on the post, manhattan 5 days, 8 hours ago
I was lost on the winding intestinal tract of the the streets of Manhattan, wandering aimlessly for most of the night.
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WearyWater commented on the post, rocker 6 days, 9 hours ago
The room was in pieces. The mantle was hanging by a few splinters of wood and the contents of every drawer were scattered across the floor. A stack of muddied, crumpled papers lay haphazardly on top of the upended rocker.
She had come in behind me. “My god, what happened in here?” She saw the papers and gave a piercing shriek. “My sketches!” -
WearyWater commented on the post, taboo 1 week ago
I didn’t want to dwell on it any longer than I had to. Without thinking of the long-term repercussions for breaking the taboo, I tore off my shoes and socks and waded knee-high into the swirling water.
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WearyWater commented on the post, taboo 1 week, 1 day ago
I knew that it was some sort of strange, incomprehensible cultural taboo, but I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed her. It was short and sharp, but we both knew that it had happened. Just as quickly, she shoved me away.
Her eyes were dark and fearful. “What have you done?” -
cmsiena commented on the post, taboo 1 week, 1 day ago
These are the days when sunlight hits everything and bathes it in blue and green and yellow, and the daffodils bob. The boys are shouting and the girls are laughing. Hands are held on screened in porches, on hanging swings, on patios by grills as the burgers sizzle. The sunglasses come out to shade the windows to the soul and it is summer, so to do anything but love is taboo.
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WearyWater commented on the post, auburn 1 week, 2 days ago
In her hurry to leave, her shoulder collided with a thin, angular auburn haired boy. He whipped around faster than she thought was possible.
“Watch it,” he snarled. His eyebrows cast deep shadows over his eyes, which were more of an unsettling yellow than hazel. -
WearyWater commented on the post, celestial 1 week, 3 days ago
Sometimes I wish I had blue eyes.
Or green, or hazel, or black, or anything else. Every other option is more interesting than brown.
But blue is magnificent, mystical… The color of incredibly hot flames, of celestial, star-studded canopies of night, or the rumbling wash of the ocean.
It all comes back to genetics, I suppose.
Like so many others, I’ve gotten the short end of the stick. -
WearyWater commented on the post, loom 1 week, 4 days ago
Her fingers picked threads numbly. There was hardly any light left now, just strange, slanted rays of dirty purple dusk leaking in through the barred windows in stripes. The sun would set completely soon. The loom creaked as she wove the threads faster, not noticing the slices in her fingertips from the tightening strings.
She wouldn’t be able to finish before nightfall.
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WearyWater commented on the post, soap 1 week, 5 days ago
There wasn’t any soap in the shower, so I merely washed myself with the putrid lavender shampoo. The picture on the front featured a woman running through a waist-deep field of the purple flowers, arms flung out and carefree. I took a sniff of the contents, and immediately my eyes began to itch. It had most definitely been abandoned in there for a reason.
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cmsiena commented on the post, soap 1 week, 5 days ago
I am so lost in my heartache that I forget I am standing at the sink, wringing my hands full of soap over and over while the water runs. Gritting my teeth, I stare at my eyes. Deep down into the dark narrow pupils, I still see the glimmer of your reflection. Other women come and go without a word. They know this need to wash every hint of unfaithful touch from the skin, and so they let me be.
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WearyWater commented on the post, simplify 1 week, 6 days ago
“Wait. Stop.” She held out an aggressive hand to me, brows furrowed. “Simplify. What were you doing there?”
“Well,” I manage, tasting blood. “You could say that I had a few debts I needed to repay…”
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WearyWater commented on the post, beer 2 weeks ago
That summer was synonymous with sour beer and the ashy remains of cigarettes. It was my first summer as an adult, and I hardly knew how to handle myself.
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