She only cries in the rain. She can’t bear for others to see her tears and so she’s perfected the art of holding it all in until the next downpour. Even then, she keeps her face a stone mask so the passers by won’t guess her secret.
She just dropped out of the face of the Earth, dissipated into the ether, and none of the 6.5 — or has that number increased, she can’t recall — people inhabiting the only known planet to support intelligent life even noticed her lack of presence. Her life was not even a blip in their radar.
Drops of water are running on my skin, sun is shining. I’m burning. Never mind, I might as well just stay here.
Morgane
Cold fingers slip through hers, fingertips brushing, a sensation that sends shivers down her spine. Ghosts of tears slip down her cheeks, but her eyes are dry. Her heart splinters, sending dreadful shards into her organs. This will kill her.
She’s right, as always. She stands there not smoking nor smouldering in the dark like some ego bruised femme fatale, slighted and now out for the kill. Although her manner is getting harder and harder to read these days.
He crushes the barely lit cigarette in a crystal ashtray. The light from the desk lamp banks off its prism edges, casting crystals into shadows. “You know I don’t really smoke. Well, done for the reminder.”
“Get away from my desk.”
He stands and walks towards her, hands out: “See, darlin’ I took nothing.”
“You don’t know me well enough to assume my air plant’s dish was an ashtray. Now get out and stay out, this will be the last fair warning as next time I will shoot.”
He sees where her arms are crossed she keeps a gun in a holster. He didn’t realize she’d broken down and gotten her permit.
“Alright. Next time I’ll make an appointment.” He says, “Truly sorry. It won’t happen again. I just wanted to catch up, ya know. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Her face is impassive. He expected more from her, some hint in her eyes that — no, there was nothing. She’s right. He knows nothing about her for some very secret reason.
“Well, if you ever want to tell me” he drops his card near her shoes. “I’ll be down there with the dirt.”
Her hand flutters against his cheek, unsure of where to land. Bruises mar almost every inch of his skin, staining it with dark, ugly purples and blues. After a long, tense moment, only punctuated by the nervous gnawing of her teeth against her lip, her hand drops. It fists at her side.
“Who did this to you?” Her voice is quiet, but even he, barely conscious, can hear the murderous undertone in it.
The sound echoes through the room because no one dared to speak. The hollow, anxious air let every noise cascade throughout the warehouse while everyone stood, awestruck and terrified. The water kept coming but no one saw where the drops were falling from. The only thing brave enough to breech the tension was the ever defiant liquid shrouded in shadowed secrecy.
Falling. Down. Down. Down. There’s a way up, off. around. Has to be. This can not be it. I will not give in to what falls. Drops. Diminishes. I will rise. Fast. Full. Inspired. Always up. Always onward.
t
drops of droops
droops that let things drip
drips of drops
from a sleeping mouth’s!
drool…
It’s Tuesday, and the forecast has been spot on; gloomy with high chances of rainfall. Except it was no ordinary rainfall. It’s been raining inside her ever since he left, since he walked out that mahogany door and shut it close with a loud thud. It’s been a storm of emotions, confusion, insomnia, caffeine, unanswered calls, unheard voice mails, unread texts, tears, sweat, anger, love, longing, emotions and back and forth. It has been a storm in her heart ever since. And it has been there for the longest time. Longer before yesterday’s forecast, longer before this literal storm which robbed her of literal sunlight, longer than the drizzle which comes by from time to time leaving droplets of tears in her eyes and on her apartment window.
Like drops of rain I run down the road to catch the kid at the end of the street. I like drops of rain because they cool me off! The lady drops her purse and the man helps by picking it up.
tabitha zabukovec
rain drops dew drops drops like something he drops the pot. there a water drops, there is a hard time thinking of drops. dew drops and really nice on the lawn. raindrops can cloud your vision on your glasses.
They tell: “find what you want.”
T’is normal to follow one’s hearts.
It’s the otherwise for another.
What do you really want?
A drop knows, its natural for him.
to submit to Earth’s gravity
Light Blue Fox 333
Dropping from such a far height was dangerous, but that’s just what our handsome protagonist was about to do. He flexed his legs and launched himself over the cliff. His heart pumping in his mouth, he felt his blood turn cold with exhilaration.
She only cries in the rain. She can’t bear for others to see her tears and so she’s perfected the art of holding it all in until the next downpour. Even then, she keeps her face a stone mask so the passers by won’t guess her secret.
She just dropped out of the face of the Earth, dissipated into the ether, and none of the 6.5 — or has that number increased, she can’t recall — people inhabiting the only known planet to support intelligent life even noticed her lack of presence. Her life was not even a blip in their radar.
Drops of water are running on my skin, sun is shining. I’m burning. Never mind, I might as well just stay here.
Cold fingers slip through hers, fingertips brushing, a sensation that sends shivers down her spine. Ghosts of tears slip down her cheeks, but her eyes are dry. Her heart splinters, sending dreadful shards into her organs. This will kill her.
“Drop the pretension.”
She’s right, as always. She stands there not smoking nor smouldering in the dark like some ego bruised femme fatale, slighted and now out for the kill. Although her manner is getting harder and harder to read these days.
He crushes the barely lit cigarette in a crystal ashtray. The light from the desk lamp banks off its prism edges, casting crystals into shadows. “You know I don’t really smoke. Well, done for the reminder.”
“Get away from my desk.”
He stands and walks towards her, hands out: “See, darlin’ I took nothing.”
“You don’t know me well enough to assume my air plant’s dish was an ashtray. Now get out and stay out, this will be the last fair warning as next time I will shoot.”
He sees where her arms are crossed she keeps a gun in a holster. He didn’t realize she’d broken down and gotten her permit.
“Alright. Next time I’ll make an appointment.” He says, “Truly sorry. It won’t happen again. I just wanted to catch up, ya know. Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Her face is impassive. He expected more from her, some hint in her eyes that — no, there was nothing. She’s right. He knows nothing about her for some very secret reason.
“Well, if you ever want to tell me” he drops his card near her shoes. “I’ll be down there with the dirt.”
And for a second he swears something flashed.
as the beat drop all the people in the club starts to dance forgetting every thing that was bothering them and just having fun.
Her hand flutters against his cheek, unsure of where to land. Bruises mar almost every inch of his skin, staining it with dark, ugly purples and blues. After a long, tense moment, only punctuated by the nervous gnawing of her teeth against her lip, her hand drops. It fists at her side.
“Who did this to you?” Her voice is quiet, but even he, barely conscious, can hear the murderous undertone in it.
The sound echoes through the room because no one dared to speak. The hollow, anxious air let every noise cascade throughout the warehouse while everyone stood, awestruck and terrified. The water kept coming but no one saw where the drops were falling from. The only thing brave enough to breech the tension was the ever defiant liquid shrouded in shadowed secrecy.
Falling. Down. Down. Down. There’s a way up, off. around. Has to be. This can not be it. I will not give in to what falls. Drops. Diminishes. I will rise. Fast. Full. Inspired. Always up. Always onward.
drops of droops
droops that let things drip
drips of drops
from a sleeping mouth’s!
drool…
It’s Tuesday, and the forecast has been spot on; gloomy with high chances of rainfall. Except it was no ordinary rainfall. It’s been raining inside her ever since he left, since he walked out that mahogany door and shut it close with a loud thud. It’s been a storm of emotions, confusion, insomnia, caffeine, unanswered calls, unheard voice mails, unread texts, tears, sweat, anger, love, longing, emotions and back and forth. It has been a storm in her heart ever since. And it has been there for the longest time. Longer before yesterday’s forecast, longer before this literal storm which robbed her of literal sunlight, longer than the drizzle which comes by from time to time leaving droplets of tears in her eyes and on her apartment window.
Like drops of rain I run down the road to catch the kid at the end of the street. I like drops of rain because they cool me off! The lady drops her purse and the man helps by picking it up.
rain drops dew drops drops like something he drops the pot. there a water drops, there is a hard time thinking of drops. dew drops and really nice on the lawn. raindrops can cloud your vision on your glasses.
They tell: “find what you want.”
T’is normal to follow one’s hearts.
It’s the otherwise for another.
What do you really want?
A drop knows, its natural for him.
to submit to Earth’s gravity
Dropping from such a far height was dangerous, but that’s just what our handsome protagonist was about to do. He flexed his legs and launched himself over the cliff. His heart pumping in his mouth, he felt his blood turn cold with exhilaration.