ossamortale
Her cigarette dangles from between her pale fingers, spitting smoke that curls upwards and out of sight. I want nothing more than to twist my limbs into that smoke and fly away into the night with it.
The page was tear-stained and wrinkled from the countless hours it had spent crushed in her palm, and the ink was beginning to fade. It was the final letter from him, the letter that told her he would never return. He was gone.
You are the one who won't dare raise his voice above a whisper. You are the one who creeps through dark corridors and hides his face. You are the scared little boy who won't emerge from the shadows. It's You. You are the coward, and yet you tell me that I am afraid. You are the one who is afraid. Not me.
You think you're strong, but you are quite the opposite, sir. You are so proud that your whisper breaks the spirit of those who are weak, but I see you for what you are. You aren't brave enough to raise your voice above a whisper. You know that in the end, you are the weak one. You're a coward.
Mama always made the best strawberry jelly. It was the sweetest thing this side of the Milky Way. To this day I can't look at a strawberry without feeling my insides swell up and my throat constrict a little. I miss the days when everything was good and simple. Oh, I miss them terribly. My very soul aches for them, sometimes.
I'd like to print the way that I feel and use it for future reference. I seem to do my best writing and thinking when I feel this way, but I have no idea what to call it.
If I could have my emotions printed across a page... that would be swell.
Coal dust settled over a landscape of snow.
The relatives were coming to town. Not just ANY relatives, mind you. MY relatives. Ben's relative's a fairly easy to handle in comparison. (He also does not have as many aunts and uncles as I do.) If they ruin my wedding, I swear....
"Solved." In some far corner of my mind I know that this means it should be over, but nothing is ever really "solved" when you think it is.
I don't like surprises.
Mystery. He had finally figured out the mystery that was Her. Or so he thought. Wasn't the point of a mystery to keep you guessing?
Well baby, she had certainly done that. He was finished. Done. He would waste no more time trying to solve those questions. He was out.
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