lizza
Such a light word. Flicked away, discarded. It's how everyone who had been in love and hurt has been. It's what great dogs on the street have been. It's what chaos admist a great city has been. Flicked to the side like a gross booger that needs to be hidden beneath the carpet. Something that can change so much, that has to be swept to an undisclosed location. For example usage: "Tibet has been dismissed as a slight mishap " (oopsss said the Chinese)
He ran. Tears ran. Sweat ran. His skin was pink. His skin glowed. His cheeks glowed. He wasn't going to stop running. He wasn't going to stop hurting. He wasn't going to stop being mad. But he was going to run. Because when he ran, he hurt all over, and when he hurt all over, his head felt fine.
Living it cheap. That is how he did it. No investment in grades. No poneying up in relationships. Played it as it went. No need to pay when you could have it all for free. The only price he payed was tucked deep inside, noone could see it.
Sit on the bench. Feeling the wine press aganinst the back of my neck, my head, my spine. Think of the thid 23rd, the date. The day you left me, girl. Every 23rd I'll be remembering you. Feb or not. Cause you're Nora Bohringer.;
She was his outlet. Time and time again, he delivered his pent up emotion into her face, back, arms, whatever he could reach. Whatever he could see, during those brief storms of uncomprehendable feeling. She took it, time and time again, with the composure of a conquered soldier. One who would not speak what the enemy wanted to hear, just take what had to be taken. She would not recieve any medals. Only another confirmation that he needed her.
Bad, bad, hangover. Tea. Yeah, that's exactly what he needed. Tea, with spice. Flavour. Something more than the thick whiskey smell and taste that hung over his life. He could tell it was there, on his tongue. He tried to smell that dorm room smell, only whiskey revealed itself. Life. Alcohol. Necessity.
She lifts the light, red lid off the box. Takes in the smooth brown shapes with her dulled eyes. Savors their innocence. Aches for her own. Gliding down her face, a few foolish tears. She looks out at the big, dark dome above, a silence broken by white sequences. As white and bright as the pills she is about to swallow, washed down with sorrow. Silence embraced her.
She threaded the needle with red string. This is what it would take to mend. She let a few drops fall onto the tip, to be sure traces of her sad would be sown into her heart. She would mend, but she would not forget.
She slowly drifted over to him, and with one sad look through her misty, swimming eyes, he realized she knew. The big blue spheres fixed upon him were not asking why. They were just whispering to him they knew. Everything was different now. Her lip trembled slightly, and the wine glass slid away from his fingers, meeting the ground in a million diamond fragments, glittering up from the puddle of dark red. She stood there, surrounded by the glass, her shattered spirit revealing itself in the form of sparkling fragments in her eyes.
drain it all, the bad feelings, the bad motions, the bad. Rid it all, down the drains of your physical mind. let the dregs of your sad, your bad, down the drain of the forgotten. It deserves to be forgotten. The only thing in your mind should be the oblivion of the happy, the great. Love life. Its well heard, its hard, but do it. let it be.
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