I returned to you in minutes in time. You asked for my forgiveness…and I gave it to you right away. I shouldn’t have, but I can’t resist you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Your my light, my savior. I forgive you. Always remember that.
He had spent all afternoon making the small valentines card with the requisite “Do you like me, yes or no” questionnaire included with two boxes, one of which was meant to be checked and upon whose checking his heart and happiness depended.
He craftily slipped the card into a book she was using for research for their third grade social studies project, knowing she would take the book home for the weekend as it was due back Monday.
On Monday, however, his hopes were dashed when he saw the book back in the library, returned with the card still inside, unnoticed and boxes unchecked.
Foiled again.
He hadn’t wanted to at first, but then he thought about it. The way her eyes would look when she saw him, with all those different shades of blue. The way she would have her hair in some new style that was unfathomable to him. The way she – hopefully – would smile. The way she would forgive him.
i have returned
beyond words
volver
a mi mundo
i have returned
i’ll never go again
until i do
but thats so far away
and ill come back
i will come back
i will return
i returned home today from work. then i returned my medicine. i hope that my mail inquiry is returned favorably because I really want $10k knocked off my loans.
when I stood in your room for the first time,
hands clasped behind my back,
I noticed a stack of things you intended to return:
an overdue library book, an ex-boyfriend’s sweater,
and a pair of heels you bought at the mall,
thinking the weight of 6-inch leather stilettos
would anchor your dizzy heart.
i returned to the place i once was–for so long—and it was like i had never left. the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. i gaged. the feeling was all too familiar. i shuddered. i vowed to leave for good this time–never to return again. let’s hope not all vows are broken.
I looked around the eerie house as I slowly trailed my fingers along the bookshelves covered with dust, as if they were the pancakes of a six-year-old powdered with powdered sugar. Had I really returned? It wasn’t at all like me. I usually left my memories behind. And this house… this house had memories. Out of the corner John smiled at me, but when I smiled back he was gone. John had been dead for 3 years now.
Her energy returned only in anger, which threw it in her face and left her staggered by rage, trembling at the audacity of it all. But ultimately, her mind, though whetted by indignation, was still bent towards exhaustion and the attack only pushed it further into the decay of thoughts that wished themselves dreams.
to the beging of stoped hearbeats writen in the ink that flowed from backs stabbed with stainless shards
find some talking theough their thoughts unreturned
un returned to the library of souls this one was lost in its own misgivings
return to the
return with the
falling for the everlasting minute of nothingness
yesterday i returned some books. that was when i first saw you again after i turned my back on you. after i realized this love was no true love for you but for the picture i had made of you. now your beard has grown, your hair is long and your apartment stinks. it felt like you were broken somehow. running in the wrong direction unable to stop. maybe not even seeing what you are running towards. and i saw your trembling hands when i entered. i saw them when you ate and i saw your trembling hands when we said goodbye. forever?
when i looked back, i saw nothing but the lights of a setting moon over the first green streaks of dawn. my limbs moved as would molasses over a silver tablet, and i greeted the lock of my own door with a wistful sigh when i finally turned the key.
I have returned to nostalgic thoughts
reminiscing about the time
where I could trust you to not leave.
Your actions seem genuine and constant now,
but the past is reminding me that you always let me down.
You have returned, but I must keep in mind
in order for one to return, they must first leave.
It had been awhile. It felt like a different life. Two lives, one person. Now I was here, again. They would hate me for what I did to them. I did not blame them. I did not feel bad about it either. Not anymore. When the world confronted you with evil, you had to be a villain to survive.
I walked into the library, the smell of the books instantly filling my nose. I smiled as I walked up to the counter in an olfactory stupor. “Hi, I’d like to return this,” I told the librarian who instantly recognized me and grinned right away.
“This is the third book you’ve returned in two days,” she commented, still smiling.
“I can’t help it. I love books,” I replied, as I slid the book across the counter.
“I know,” she nodded and took the book from me.
Returned is a backwards word. First of all, “turn” is to go back, to go the other direction. And then “return” gives you “re”, which is to do again. So return is flipping around, but then doing it again, which just turns you the right way around. And just to make things more convoluted, the definition of return is to give back. Putting all of these sneaky twists together, we return (hah) a word that means going back but then going back again, and finally giving the double going back.
We returned to the dusty, tension filled room, and avoided the disproving glares of our peers. We sat on the faded red velvet loveseat, and looked at the investigators, expectant looks on both of our faces.
he returned from his long journey into the arms of his waiting princess. She had longed for his return from the exploration of the far countries and leapt at him with joyful tears on her face. They spent the entire evening in one another’s arms. They talked for hours,
One day a man returned with a gun in his hand and blood on his shoes. No one knew where he had been or what he might have just done. The sad part is that no one lived to tell his tale. No one. The name of that man is Caden Jones.
she returned to her seat beside him, the red vinyl of the booth seat squeeking and crinkling under her weight. the table, riddled with scratches and holes, wiggled a little but as she used it for leverage, and when she settled, she could feel the warmth of his hip against her.
I returned with splinters in my hands and blood resting under my tongue. Soaked and dazzled by the hell that pictorially laid itself out before me. The same picture i’d arrived in, everything untouched. Perfect.
He returned before she even knew that he was gone. She never noticed little things like that, she was a heavy sleeper. And although she’d never find out, he still felt a pang of guilt reverb throughout his soul.
returned is the feeling you get at the end of missing someone. the word you think of when you hug someone you love for the first time in a long time. the sense of warm comfort you feel when you have something back; something that should have never been taken away, and it’s going nowhere.
A box of things you gave to me, CDs and shirts and a necklace. A letter you wrote to me from Istanbul. Three birthday cards, and a keychain. These are the things I lay at your feet. God, I hate break-ups.
Nick had helped the older man, despite the evident mutual dislike, so it was high time Joe returned the favor. Many things in life were unfair, if not completely wrong. Many people only cared about their own business, their own well-being.
Joe hadn’t lived a perfect life. He’d got a raw deal since the beginning, but, to be completely honest, it was fair to say that his behaviour had been far from flawless, either.
But some things just needed to be done.
It wasn’t like he was looking for redemption, no. He doubted a single good deed was enough to even out a life full of carelessness and wrongdoings.
He just felt, with all his being, with wath was left of his coscience, with his old, tired heart, that it was time to do the right thing.
I thought I could have the happiness of this word, return, past tense– “you have returned.”
But I really do see that it couldn’t have been any other way.
His strength returned. And he saw many more sleepless nights ahead – many more failures, many more questions of faith. He saw rejection, he saw hatred. He saw the terrible seed of doubt shaking the foundation of his soul. And though every day was a struggle, he knew he’d found life amidst the darkness.
I have returned. I have returned from the darkness, the loneliness; the dark depths of my very being. I have looked into the devils soul as thought it were mine; I have looked into his eyes, and they are frightened. He’s not angry, he’s scared; petrified.
i returned the book to the man at the desk and i cried about it, i missed it already. oh how i longed to return to that wonderful book, with its twists and turns and the storylines of romanticised love and heroic deeds, but alas the man snatched it from me without a second glance
You thought you’ve forgotten when without the illusion of nostalgia nor the filter of anger, the feeling returns. It feels as sharp and clear, as hurting and true. Why must we write things down?
The gravel crunched under my foot. I paused, looking up sheltering my eyes from the sun with my hand. I pushed open the rusty gate, it screamed in need of oil. I walked slowly towards the front door, and reach out my hand to the handle. I took a deep breath.
When she returned from her long voyage, she was amazed by what she saw. She couldn’t recognize any of the people she’d left behind. They had stayed there but she had evolved and changed. but they had changed too. in very different ways. it’s like they were floating apart but held together by a single common thought, hobby, interest, favorite food, they were ever-changing and in synch. perfect chaos
She returned the bracelet to me. She didn’t care about the special bead I selected, or the story behind its selection… how it reminded me that family need each other; how I wanted her to know how far away she was, she was still my little girl; how I wanted her to know the little hearts were both mine and her father’s telling her we loved her.
She called it a waste, an overpriced fad, a folly by foolish people who valued foolish things. She said it all to me on Christmas Eve from the other side of our vast continent as seconds after she opened it. No breath, no pause, no compassion. She liked the little stuffed bear but the rest would be on its way back as quickly as she could mail it.
Four days later it was back in my hand. I didn’t return it because it had at least been with her for a few days. And I missed her. But I also knew it would infuriate her when she saw me wearing it in pictures later on, and I wanted her to remember what i had offered to her and what she had recklessly turned away again, a mother’s heart.
I gave you back the book you let me borrow
which is probably a cliche
so allow me to clarify:
I kept the book
I haven’t read it yet
but you aren’t getting it back
because every time I see you
I can’t help but wonder
if I should have tried a little harder
cared a little more
and returned your feelings
When she returned from her long voyage, she was amazed by what she saw. She couldn’t recognize any of the people she’d left behind. They had stayed there but she had evolved and changed. Unlike all of them.
I returned to you in minutes in time. You asked for my forgiveness…and I gave it to you right away. I shouldn’t have, but I can’t resist you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Your my light, my savior. I forgive you. Always remember that.
He had spent all afternoon making the small valentines card with the requisite “Do you like me, yes or no” questionnaire included with two boxes, one of which was meant to be checked and upon whose checking his heart and happiness depended.
He craftily slipped the card into a book she was using for research for their third grade social studies project, knowing she would take the book home for the weekend as it was due back Monday.
On Monday, however, his hopes were dashed when he saw the book back in the library, returned with the card still inside, unnoticed and boxes unchecked.
Foiled again.
He hadn’t wanted to at first, but then he thought about it. The way her eyes would look when she saw him, with all those different shades of blue. The way she would have her hair in some new style that was unfathomable to him. The way she – hopefully – would smile. The way she would forgive him.
i have returned
beyond words
volver
a mi mundo
i have returned
i’ll never go again
until i do
but thats so far away
and ill come back
i will come back
i will return
i returned home today from work. then i returned my medicine. i hope that my mail inquiry is returned favorably because I really want $10k knocked off my loans.
when I stood in your room for the first time,
hands clasped behind my back,
I noticed a stack of things you intended to return:
an overdue library book, an ex-boyfriend’s sweater,
and a pair of heels you bought at the mall,
thinking the weight of 6-inch leather stilettos
would anchor your dizzy heart.
i returned to the place i once was–for so long—and it was like i had never left. the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. i gaged. the feeling was all too familiar. i shuddered. i vowed to leave for good this time–never to return again. let’s hope not all vows are broken.
I looked around the eerie house as I slowly trailed my fingers along the bookshelves covered with dust, as if they were the pancakes of a six-year-old powdered with powdered sugar. Had I really returned? It wasn’t at all like me. I usually left my memories behind. And this house… this house had memories. Out of the corner John smiled at me, but when I smiled back he was gone. John had been dead for 3 years now.
Her energy returned only in anger, which threw it in her face and left her staggered by rage, trembling at the audacity of it all. But ultimately, her mind, though whetted by indignation, was still bent towards exhaustion and the attack only pushed it further into the decay of thoughts that wished themselves dreams.
to the beging of stoped hearbeats writen in the ink that flowed from backs stabbed with stainless shards
find some talking theough their thoughts unreturned
un returned to the library of souls this one was lost in its own misgivings
return to the
return with the
falling for the everlasting minute of nothingness
yesterday i returned some books. that was when i first saw you again after i turned my back on you. after i realized this love was no true love for you but for the picture i had made of you. now your beard has grown, your hair is long and your apartment stinks. it felt like you were broken somehow. running in the wrong direction unable to stop. maybe not even seeing what you are running towards. and i saw your trembling hands when i entered. i saw them when you ate and i saw your trembling hands when we said goodbye. forever?
when i looked back, i saw nothing but the lights of a setting moon over the first green streaks of dawn. my limbs moved as would molasses over a silver tablet, and i greeted the lock of my own door with a wistful sigh when i finally turned the key.
I have returned to nostalgic thoughts
reminiscing about the time
where I could trust you to not leave.
Your actions seem genuine and constant now,
but the past is reminding me that you always let me down.
You have returned, but I must keep in mind
in order for one to return, they must first leave.
It had been awhile. It felt like a different life. Two lives, one person. Now I was here, again. They would hate me for what I did to them. I did not blame them. I did not feel bad about it either. Not anymore. When the world confronted you with evil, you had to be a villain to survive.
I walked into the library, the smell of the books instantly filling my nose. I smiled as I walked up to the counter in an olfactory stupor. “Hi, I’d like to return this,” I told the librarian who instantly recognized me and grinned right away.
“This is the third book you’ve returned in two days,” she commented, still smiling.
“I can’t help it. I love books,” I replied, as I slid the book across the counter.
“I know,” she nodded and took the book from me.
Returned is a backwards word. First of all, “turn” is to go back, to go the other direction. And then “return” gives you “re”, which is to do again. So return is flipping around, but then doing it again, which just turns you the right way around. And just to make things more convoluted, the definition of return is to give back. Putting all of these sneaky twists together, we return (hah) a word that means going back but then going back again, and finally giving the double going back.
We returned to the dusty, tension filled room, and avoided the disproving glares of our peers. We sat on the faded red velvet loveseat, and looked at the investigators, expectant looks on both of our faces.
he returned from his long journey into the arms of his waiting princess. She had longed for his return from the exploration of the far countries and leapt at him with joyful tears on her face. They spent the entire evening in one another’s arms. They talked for hours,
One day a man returned with a gun in his hand and blood on his shoes. No one knew where he had been or what he might have just done. The sad part is that no one lived to tell his tale. No one. The name of that man is Caden Jones.
she returned to her seat beside him, the red vinyl of the booth seat squeeking and crinkling under her weight. the table, riddled with scratches and holes, wiggled a little but as she used it for leverage, and when she settled, she could feel the warmth of his hip against her.
I returned with splinters in my hands and blood resting under my tongue. Soaked and dazzled by the hell that pictorially laid itself out before me. The same picture i’d arrived in, everything untouched. Perfect.
He returned before she even knew that he was gone. She never noticed little things like that, she was a heavy sleeper. And although she’d never find out, he still felt a pang of guilt reverb throughout his soul.
returned is the feeling you get at the end of missing someone. the word you think of when you hug someone you love for the first time in a long time. the sense of warm comfort you feel when you have something back; something that should have never been taken away, and it’s going nowhere.
I never did, perhaps I never will.
There are many reasons I have not
That cycle of unhapiness that I joined everytime I did
I promise now that I will not come back
I am the bird that left the flock and never- returned
i never returned that book
the one with the
grey pictures
and words
loneliness
lingers
more than you ever would
A box of things you gave to me, CDs and shirts and a necklace. A letter you wrote to me from Istanbul. Three birthday cards, and a keychain. These are the things I lay at your feet. God, I hate break-ups.
pink floyd wrote a song that make me remember about that word.
someone who came bak. it’s return
turn one more time, in the past
Nick had helped the older man, despite the evident mutual dislike, so it was high time Joe returned the favor. Many things in life were unfair, if not completely wrong. Many people only cared about their own business, their own well-being.
Joe hadn’t lived a perfect life. He’d got a raw deal since the beginning, but, to be completely honest, it was fair to say that his behaviour had been far from flawless, either.
But some things just needed to be done.
It wasn’t like he was looking for redemption, no. He doubted a single good deed was enough to even out a life full of carelessness and wrongdoings.
He just felt, with all his being, with wath was left of his coscience, with his old, tired heart, that it was time to do the right thing.
I thought I could have the happiness of this word, return, past tense– “you have returned.”
But I really do see that it couldn’t have been any other way.
Why – why always the same pattern. Desperate to leave, feeling a yearning and pulling, an inexplicable draw. Returned to him, again.
His strength returned. And he saw many more sleepless nights ahead – many more failures, many more questions of faith. He saw rejection, he saw hatred. He saw the terrible seed of doubt shaking the foundation of his soul. And though every day was a struggle, he knew he’d found life amidst the darkness.
My diary. All my secret thoughts. Violated.
The rumpled quilt gave her away.
From now on I’ll hide it in the broom cupboard where she’ll never look for it.
I have returned. I have returned from the darkness, the loneliness; the dark depths of my very being. I have looked into the devils soul as thought it were mine; I have looked into his eyes, and they are frightened. He’s not angry, he’s scared; petrified.
i returned the book to the man at the desk and i cried about it, i missed it already. oh how i longed to return to that wonderful book, with its twists and turns and the storylines of romanticised love and heroic deeds, but alas the man snatched it from me without a second glance
You thought you’ve forgotten when without the illusion of nostalgia nor the filter of anger, the feeling returns. It feels as sharp and clear, as hurting and true. Why must we write things down?
The gravel crunched under my foot. I paused, looking up sheltering my eyes from the sun with my hand. I pushed open the rusty gate, it screamed in need of oil. I walked slowly towards the front door, and reach out my hand to the handle. I took a deep breath.
I had returned.
When she returned from her long voyage, she was amazed by what she saw. She couldn’t recognize any of the people she’d left behind. They had stayed there but she had evolved and changed. but they had changed too. in very different ways. it’s like they were floating apart but held together by a single common thought, hobby, interest, favorite food, they were ever-changing and in synch. perfect chaos
She returned the bracelet to me. She didn’t care about the special bead I selected, or the story behind its selection… how it reminded me that family need each other; how I wanted her to know how far away she was, she was still my little girl; how I wanted her to know the little hearts were both mine and her father’s telling her we loved her.
She called it a waste, an overpriced fad, a folly by foolish people who valued foolish things. She said it all to me on Christmas Eve from the other side of our vast continent as seconds after she opened it. No breath, no pause, no compassion. She liked the little stuffed bear but the rest would be on its way back as quickly as she could mail it.
Four days later it was back in my hand. I didn’t return it because it had at least been with her for a few days. And I missed her. But I also knew it would infuriate her when she saw me wearing it in pictures later on, and I wanted her to remember what i had offered to her and what she had recklessly turned away again, a mother’s heart.
I gave you back the book you let me borrow
which is probably a cliche
so allow me to clarify:
I kept the book
I haven’t read it yet
but you aren’t getting it back
because every time I see you
I can’t help but wonder
if I should have tried a little harder
cared a little more
and returned your feelings
When she returned from her long voyage, she was amazed by what she saw. She couldn’t recognize any of the people she’d left behind. They had stayed there but she had evolved and changed. Unlike all of them.