It only took half a second to stick it into my pocket. The surge shot through my body lasted for hours though. Why is it that a stolen piece of chocolate taste that much sweeter?
Her heart was stolen. Stolen by the boy with the shaggy blonde hair and blue puppy dog eyes. His eyes were deceiving though, for he was no sweet puppy at all, but a ruthless heartbreaker. He stole heart heart and smashed it to pieces like it was a china plate dropped on the hardwood floor.
G
I met him last year, and I knew it from then. I was under his charm and he had stolen my heart. I haven’t been able to express these feelings, still after all this time. At this point in my life, I am overweight and a little unstable, and therefore my selfesteem is at an all time low. I don’t need to bring luggage to someone who doesn’t need it.
She adjusted her blonde wig and cat eye sunglasses, tossed a bag on her shoulder, put on a pair of silver strappy heels and headed out. She ordered a latte at the coffee shop just like the girl, with a pinch of cinnamon and chocolate powder on the top. She even flipped the pages of the magazine like her, with her pinky pointing outwards. This wasn’t new to her as she has stolen identities before. She loved it, because she could get away with anything. Absolutely anything.
abigail rae
the broken phone, winded up being stolen
a lost cause, made for what, for an extraneous thief
my spirits, stolen, just like the phone.
Shattered and stolen,
by the dell-hills circling big bear lake,
I look down, I look up, anew I come out!
Cheeky winks and stolen glances. It was just the beginning of another rollercoaster ride. Hopefully her last, as she was starting to vomit out of anguish and despair now.
kyungsoo
One day my watch was stolen. A man on the train pushed me up against the wall and threatened me. I offered him all of my money, my entire purse, but all he wanted was my watch. It was my very favorite cat watch. It was plastic. I got it for $7 at WalMart. Why did this idiot man want my watch? Why did he have to steal it? I don’t deserve it. Now I will never know the time of day, but he will.
Hannah
She had hidden it under layers in her purse, under her wallet, keys, free reading book, makeup bag, down to the bottom with loose change and stray hairpins. There it sat, unsuspecting. It looked perfectly ordinary. And it was. Except for the fact that it was stolen property. That does put a damper on things, now doesn’t it?
Bridget Grace
“So here’s the trick. Instead of using your credit card, you put the victim’s credit card in, and when the system tries to match them together, it lags and you can get the product before it gets resolved and hightail it out of there!” Stephen motioned excitedly to his partner-in-crime Freddy.
“Yeah, but don’t you have to start by getting a stolen credit card in that case?”
He ran, the object hidden in a clenched hand, quickly transferred to a pocket deep inside his clothes. It was night, and the owls hooted, the mood streaming through the trees, as he panted, each footstep far louder than he thought it should be. It was cool but he was still sweating with fear.
Percy
Stolen. Huh. Makes me think of my dad and my heart for some reason. Not necessarily related but that was the first things that popped in my head.
My heart because I hate men right now. No one in particular stole it per say but over the years and through every heart ache my heart has quietly been stolen. Each man has a tiny piece that they’ve probably forgotten about. And now I’m so calused I have nothing left to give and if I did I don’t know that is want to.
Korinna Huddleston
The crooks barreled out the front the font door with the bag of cash. The cops arrived as soon s they entered their escape vehicle. On they go, running from they cops. Quickly taking sharp turns around corners almost flipping the car. Faster and faster the two forces race on the onto the freeway, dodging cars here and their. Where were they going? The crooks exited the freeway and presumed from there.after a couple of minutes the crooks quickly jumped out of there smoking vehicle and ran on foot. “We need to split up”! one of the crooks said. So, they split up. after a bit of running the cops finally cornered one of the crooks. A police officer quickly handcuffed the crook and threw him in the car. On to jail he goes. The second crook was still running, unaware of his partners catching.
Jeremiah
People always said stealing things was wrong, but when you stole my heart it was considered romantic. Not to me.
To have something or someone taken or removed without prior consent. Breaking the law by stealing. Past tense of steal is stolen. Taking something you want without permission or paying. Normally stolen is a negative word. Having your heat stolen is a positive way to use the word stolen.
Abigail Troutman
She kept it carefully protected behind a wall of sarcasm, deflection, and cynicism. Constant vigilance was her motto. When he came into her life, her security alert hit an all time high. So then it was quite a surprise when she woke up one morning and found not only had her heart been stolen, but a piece of her soul had also been lifted.
my phone charger gone missing today.
Thought Ruina was the one who took it. I angrily went and accuse her. But it wasn’t her.
I think one of Uncle Eric’s children took it and put it near my luggage bag, afraid that I will forget to bring it back to Singapore.
My daughter’s voice sounded pitiful, “My camera’s been stolen, Mommy.” I haven’t said it to her, but if you leave a camera alone on a table at McDonald’s, it’s going to get stolen. What a silly girl!
My creativity has been stolen by the illusion of a vacation soon. I am dreaming about sleep, stolen dreams and flying cars out of here. have a goodnight!
Pei Pei
She was stolen. Her breathing in the night and the cold on the ground and nothing left. She was gone, and she didn’t even know how. She wasn’t even sure what had taken her. Everything she had ever been was no longer there and there was nothing left to fight for.
Alissa
Hello World!
Cassie
I don’t know where it went, but all i remember is who took it. Let’s just say, that was the moment when the world fell apart. I can’t believe it happened that way. I thought you were my friend. Come on, we’re both in the same boat here, just give it back. Please.
I’l never, you know i can’t. Or don’t you remember?
No
Cassie
ow, it takes me right back to that time, to the grey early sixties, London still under the pall of war, a dry hand holding mine on a damp Routemaster with the scratchy seats, the whirr of the ticket machine, the chime of the bells, the lurch of the bus, to hot summer days full of sour city dust, buzzing flies, the baby and underwear shop window protected with sheets of golden yellow cellophane, humming tubes sweeping into Southfields station, that how it was and then it was all stolen
the hand was loosed and the vultures moved in
I couldn’t believe it was gone. Stolen, lost forever. I choked back my tears as I thought of the loss of the one thing I had left of my family.
Tamara Traverse
not all things can be stolen.
despite what the movies and Taylor Swift songs say,
hearts are never stolen, merely borrowed;
friends, boys – they’re never stolen, they just leave.
Pearl
Rope knots you long ago learned to tie while in boy scouts. Women that have left you for another man. the lotterly ticket that you believe is yours from your dreams. Did you give it all away…or was it stolen?? pick 1.
a memory, a moment
stolen, ahead by time
i wish to cherish it
to remember it
but it easily slipped my mind
betrayed by my ability
to keep a treasured memory
i wish to reminisce
of the moment when…
Raphaelle
He could remember when it happened, a night just like this one, when the moon shined without shame. He had been content, happy even, if this was happiness.
It was then that his heart was stolen
Tom
yeah, we never bought people. we robbed them straight out of their comfy slippers, taking them with us on lofty bouts of planning outcomes that (probably) would never take place the way we’d drawn them out to those people. but they weren’t our dreams, after all. they never belonged to us.
It was a stolen thing, the kind that you seen on the news channels every day from the time the crime was first discovered to the time the culprit was located, arrested, and dead. It was the kind of stolen thing that no one would let go, no matter how hard you wanted them to. It was the kind of stolen artifact that you just wanted to put in your past and let everyone forget, and yet, somehow, no one did.
Or, at least, no one did for Johnny McCay.
When he was practically a baby himself his father “went out for a walk,” and came back with a precious stone that looked like it belonged to one of those fancy museums. Papa told Johnny that a stranger had given it to him, and, being so young, Johnny believed him. Now that he was nineteen, Johnny felt that, looking back, he should have realized that the precious material had not been given to Papa. When had Papa ever done anything like accept a gift from a stranger? Strangers didn’t give Papa gifts, Papa took strangers’ things and gave himself gifts. He was a rotten man, and now that he was dead it appeared that all the blame would go to Johnny. None of the officials were listening to him–of how he was born and raised in the forests, away from civilization, of how his father was the one to go to the towns, of how, before his arrest, Johnny had never once left his cabin in the woods. . . .
It as a strange thing, for the son to pay the price for the father’s sins. Yet it happened daily, and it was happening to Johnny.
A heart stolen of any desire to continue to pursue a dream, robbed of anymore drive to move forward was like a leaf flowing on top of a running water… deprived of anymore strength to go on… just letting things push it forward.
Such is the life of a person without will… a hollow shell without a soul.
Wil
She would have been safer to settle for that stolen kiss and leave things at that, but longing hurtled them into temptation and a path to certain doom. Serena was crippled with heartbreak and disappointment, she had expected far too much. She longed to find a way back to the land of the living. If one scheme of happiness fails, she thought, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere. She did her best each day for looking, for a sign, a change an alternative, but everything ran hollow through her broken heart and all she could do was think of him. Every moment was filled with wanting him back.
I once had a co-worker who thought I stole her purse. She realized it was stolen and we all went on a hunt for it. We worked at the library. And I saw some suspicious looking guys. I followed them and saw they placed the purse into some book stacks. I saw the purse and I grabbed it and returned it to her. She told me I could have it. I knew then she thought I stole it.
gestohlen wurde mir nie etwas, ein glückliches geschick oder habe ich im letzten Leben andere bestohlen wie es nur ging? Möglich dass ich kein Dieb war und ich einfach nur Dusel habe. Man kann viel srhelen, das Leben, die Geduld oder nur die Schönheit, die einem das Leben nimmt.
thoms
You will not take that with you if you leave.
My heart is not a prize,
If you are not my love.
Ink Flicker
We think of tangible items that can be taken or stolen from an individual. We claim possession of things – at times – even of concepts.
My heart has been stolen a time or two – my youth was stolen in one fatal and complete moment.
Stolen knows no bounds.
Simone
He took my arm and pulled me into a world of crystals, of ruin and lost things. I didn’t know why he took me to this magical and dilapidated place, but i felt like I didn’t belong in this whirlwind. It was too starch and unnatural, to romantic to be real.
My heart was stolen by a man I never expected, even though he used to be a thief and can still pick a pocket. He didn’t mean to, I know, but then I didn’t know
It only took half a second to stick it into my pocket. The surge shot through my body lasted for hours though. Why is it that a stolen piece of chocolate taste that much sweeter?
Her heart was stolen. Stolen by the boy with the shaggy blonde hair and blue puppy dog eyes. His eyes were deceiving though, for he was no sweet puppy at all, but a ruthless heartbreaker. He stole heart heart and smashed it to pieces like it was a china plate dropped on the hardwood floor.
I met him last year, and I knew it from then. I was under his charm and he had stolen my heart. I haven’t been able to express these feelings, still after all this time. At this point in my life, I am overweight and a little unstable, and therefore my selfesteem is at an all time low. I don’t need to bring luggage to someone who doesn’t need it.
She adjusted her blonde wig and cat eye sunglasses, tossed a bag on her shoulder, put on a pair of silver strappy heels and headed out. She ordered a latte at the coffee shop just like the girl, with a pinch of cinnamon and chocolate powder on the top. She even flipped the pages of the magazine like her, with her pinky pointing outwards. This wasn’t new to her as she has stolen identities before. She loved it, because she could get away with anything. Absolutely anything.
the broken phone, winded up being stolen
a lost cause, made for what, for an extraneous thief
my spirits, stolen, just like the phone.
Shattered and stolen,
by the dell-hills circling big bear lake,
I look down, I look up, anew I come out!
Cheeky winks and stolen glances. It was just the beginning of another rollercoaster ride. Hopefully her last, as she was starting to vomit out of anguish and despair now.
One day my watch was stolen. A man on the train pushed me up against the wall and threatened me. I offered him all of my money, my entire purse, but all he wanted was my watch. It was my very favorite cat watch. It was plastic. I got it for $7 at WalMart. Why did this idiot man want my watch? Why did he have to steal it? I don’t deserve it. Now I will never know the time of day, but he will.
She had hidden it under layers in her purse, under her wallet, keys, free reading book, makeup bag, down to the bottom with loose change and stray hairpins. There it sat, unsuspecting. It looked perfectly ordinary. And it was. Except for the fact that it was stolen property. That does put a damper on things, now doesn’t it?
“So here’s the trick. Instead of using your credit card, you put the victim’s credit card in, and when the system tries to match them together, it lags and you can get the product before it gets resolved and hightail it out of there!” Stephen motioned excitedly to his partner-in-crime Freddy.
“Yeah, but don’t you have to start by getting a stolen credit card in that case?”
“But you can steal it with itself?”
He ran, the object hidden in a clenched hand, quickly transferred to a pocket deep inside his clothes. It was night, and the owls hooted, the mood streaming through the trees, as he panted, each footstep far louder than he thought it should be. It was cool but he was still sweating with fear.
Stolen. Huh. Makes me think of my dad and my heart for some reason. Not necessarily related but that was the first things that popped in my head.
My heart because I hate men right now. No one in particular stole it per say but over the years and through every heart ache my heart has quietly been stolen. Each man has a tiny piece that they’ve probably forgotten about. And now I’m so calused I have nothing left to give and if I did I don’t know that is want to.
The crooks barreled out the front the font door with the bag of cash. The cops arrived as soon s they entered their escape vehicle. On they go, running from they cops. Quickly taking sharp turns around corners almost flipping the car. Faster and faster the two forces race on the onto the freeway, dodging cars here and their. Where were they going? The crooks exited the freeway and presumed from there.after a couple of minutes the crooks quickly jumped out of there smoking vehicle and ran on foot. “We need to split up”! one of the crooks said. So, they split up. after a bit of running the cops finally cornered one of the crooks. A police officer quickly handcuffed the crook and threw him in the car. On to jail he goes. The second crook was still running, unaware of his partners catching.
People always said stealing things was wrong, but when you stole my heart it was considered romantic. Not to me.
To have something or someone taken or removed without prior consent. Breaking the law by stealing. Past tense of steal is stolen. Taking something you want without permission or paying. Normally stolen is a negative word. Having your heat stolen is a positive way to use the word stolen.
She kept it carefully protected behind a wall of sarcasm, deflection, and cynicism. Constant vigilance was her motto. When he came into her life, her security alert hit an all time high. So then it was quite a surprise when she woke up one morning and found not only had her heart been stolen, but a piece of her soul had also been lifted.
my phone charger gone missing today.
Thought Ruina was the one who took it. I angrily went and accuse her. But it wasn’t her.
I think one of Uncle Eric’s children took it and put it near my luggage bag, afraid that I will forget to bring it back to Singapore.
I think that she stolen my heart everyday when I look to her eyes. Her eyes is like a galaxi.
They stoled my notebook I don’t know the reason.
To think that all my life, I have never stolen anything is a lie. We steal everyday. What I do with what I stole would be the issue.
My daughter’s voice sounded pitiful, “My camera’s been stolen, Mommy.” I haven’t said it to her, but if you leave a camera alone on a table at McDonald’s, it’s going to get stolen. What a silly girl!
My creativity has been stolen by the illusion of a vacation soon. I am dreaming about sleep, stolen dreams and flying cars out of here. have a goodnight!
She was stolen. Her breathing in the night and the cold on the ground and nothing left. She was gone, and she didn’t even know how. She wasn’t even sure what had taken her. Everything she had ever been was no longer there and there was nothing left to fight for.
Hello World!
I don’t know where it went, but all i remember is who took it. Let’s just say, that was the moment when the world fell apart. I can’t believe it happened that way. I thought you were my friend. Come on, we’re both in the same boat here, just give it back. Please.
I’l never, you know i can’t. Or don’t you remember?
No
ow, it takes me right back to that time, to the grey early sixties, London still under the pall of war, a dry hand holding mine on a damp Routemaster with the scratchy seats, the whirr of the ticket machine, the chime of the bells, the lurch of the bus, to hot summer days full of sour city dust, buzzing flies, the baby and underwear shop window protected with sheets of golden yellow cellophane, humming tubes sweeping into Southfields station, that how it was and then it was all stolen
the hand was loosed and the vultures moved in
I couldn’t believe it was gone. Stolen, lost forever. I choked back my tears as I thought of the loss of the one thing I had left of my family.
not all things can be stolen.
despite what the movies and Taylor Swift songs say,
hearts are never stolen, merely borrowed;
friends, boys – they’re never stolen, they just leave.
Rope knots you long ago learned to tie while in boy scouts. Women that have left you for another man. the lotterly ticket that you believe is yours from your dreams. Did you give it all away…or was it stolen?? pick 1.
a memory, a moment
stolen, ahead by time
i wish to cherish it
to remember it
but it easily slipped my mind
betrayed by my ability
to keep a treasured memory
i wish to reminisce
of the moment when…
He could remember when it happened, a night just like this one, when the moon shined without shame. He had been content, happy even, if this was happiness.
It was then that his heart was stolen
yeah, we never bought people. we robbed them straight out of their comfy slippers, taking them with us on lofty bouts of planning outcomes that (probably) would never take place the way we’d drawn them out to those people. but they weren’t our dreams, after all. they never belonged to us.
It was a stolen thing, the kind that you seen on the news channels every day from the time the crime was first discovered to the time the culprit was located, arrested, and dead. It was the kind of stolen thing that no one would let go, no matter how hard you wanted them to. It was the kind of stolen artifact that you just wanted to put in your past and let everyone forget, and yet, somehow, no one did.
Or, at least, no one did for Johnny McCay.
When he was practically a baby himself his father “went out for a walk,” and came back with a precious stone that looked like it belonged to one of those fancy museums. Papa told Johnny that a stranger had given it to him, and, being so young, Johnny believed him. Now that he was nineteen, Johnny felt that, looking back, he should have realized that the precious material had not been given to Papa. When had Papa ever done anything like accept a gift from a stranger? Strangers didn’t give Papa gifts, Papa took strangers’ things and gave himself gifts. He was a rotten man, and now that he was dead it appeared that all the blame would go to Johnny. None of the officials were listening to him–of how he was born and raised in the forests, away from civilization, of how his father was the one to go to the towns, of how, before his arrest, Johnny had never once left his cabin in the woods. . . .
It as a strange thing, for the son to pay the price for the father’s sins. Yet it happened daily, and it was happening to Johnny.
A heart stolen of any desire to continue to pursue a dream, robbed of anymore drive to move forward was like a leaf flowing on top of a running water… deprived of anymore strength to go on… just letting things push it forward.
Such is the life of a person without will… a hollow shell without a soul.
She would have been safer to settle for that stolen kiss and leave things at that, but longing hurtled them into temptation and a path to certain doom. Serena was crippled with heartbreak and disappointment, she had expected far too much. She longed to find a way back to the land of the living. If one scheme of happiness fails, she thought, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere. She did her best each day for looking, for a sign, a change an alternative, but everything ran hollow through her broken heart and all she could do was think of him. Every moment was filled with wanting him back.
I once had a co-worker who thought I stole her purse. She realized it was stolen and we all went on a hunt for it. We worked at the library. And I saw some suspicious looking guys. I followed them and saw they placed the purse into some book stacks. I saw the purse and I grabbed it and returned it to her. She told me I could have it. I knew then she thought I stole it.
gestohlen wurde mir nie etwas, ein glückliches geschick oder habe ich im letzten Leben andere bestohlen wie es nur ging? Möglich dass ich kein Dieb war und ich einfach nur Dusel habe. Man kann viel srhelen, das Leben, die Geduld oder nur die Schönheit, die einem das Leben nimmt.
You will not take that with you if you leave.
My heart is not a prize,
If you are not my love.
We think of tangible items that can be taken or stolen from an individual. We claim possession of things – at times – even of concepts.
My heart has been stolen a time or two – my youth was stolen in one fatal and complete moment.
Stolen knows no bounds.
He took my arm and pulled me into a world of crystals, of ruin and lost things. I didn’t know why he took me to this magical and dilapidated place, but i felt like I didn’t belong in this whirlwind. It was too starch and unnatural, to romantic to be real.
My heart was stolen by a man I never expected, even though he used to be a thief and can still pick a pocket. He didn’t mean to, I know, but then I didn’t know