zaramusette
Her heels clicked on the cobblestones. She hoped the rain would muffle the sound as she followed the mysterious stranger deeper into the alley. She needed this story, but how far would she go?
Always looking for something different, something new. Wanting to think of it first. Being inspired by the new but never able to achieve newness.
To my heart, it's a misunderstanding. If I had been more committed. If I had believed you were more committed. But my brain knows neither of us wanted to commit. Not a misunderstanding, the truth. Understanding was part of the problem.
The rattle of the wire basket affixed between the handlebars did nothing to calm her nerves as she peddled through the dark.
Turning the radio on just to occupy the mind with anything other than the empty silence of judgement.
I'm hiking up this fucking mountain. Every day. In the sun that is not the friendly sun of children's books.
She had sat dormant for years. Moss grew up between her toes and vines wrapped around her hair. The grass grew up around her body, soft and thick. The worms and the grubs would occasionally poke their heads out from the dirt and nudge at her fingers, but small worries would not move her. She would wait for an earth shaking revelation before she would be uprooted.
His cheeks reminded her of dough before it goes in the oven. Drooping and jiggling as he laughed. She wanted to punch him, but she imagined her fist becoming stuck in the pale, squishy layers of his jaw.
The wind twirled the brittle leaves up into the sky, catching in his sun bleached curls as he dipped and twirled through the air.
I will need to take night classes to understand the exact science behind my body's reaction to your touch.
writing since 2008 · 57 entries · 57 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Lindsay showed up.
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57days written
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the words Lindsay reaches for
heartbeautyglassgirlsatbluefingersmindbreakdifferentsunspaceearthfirehairred