poetgirl13
His sideburns annoyed her. Really, really, annoyed her. They sat on the side of his head. Just sitting there. Arrogantly. This man was ARROGANT because of his freaky SIDEBURNS!
She reached to her hip where her canteen was slung. She opened the cap and raised the canteen to her mouth, in anticipation of hydration. However, she had forgotten to refill her canteen, and not a drop fell upon her tongue. She sighed, and continued walking, in search of a stream.
She lifted her torch higher so that the entire enormous cavern was illuminated. The stalagtites and stalagmites were old and dripping, and at the back, she saw, or at least, thought she saw, a single pinprick of light. A pinprick of hope.
Domestic.
Not creative.
Just domestic.
Follows orders.
Does as she's told.
Makes meals.
Wears flowery aprons.
How boring
Would it be
To be a domestic wife?
Today I made gooey bars for my Writing Lab class for our Going Away Party for our favorite teacher, Miss Culleton. Miss Culleton called me a "domestic goddess" after trying one of my famous bars; that gave me mixed feelings. I don't want to be a plain domestic cooking wife. I want to see the world.