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Literature Text
I couldn’t get it out of my head. All the rumors, the whispers, circling around me like heavy air before the storm… Proven to be true right before my eyes.
I had given him my heart and it didn’t mean a damn to him. I can see her, wrapped in his arms, smiling like the flaming haired temptress that she is, breasts to his chest, soft lips to his. It wouldn’t leave me, the nightmarish vision. I felt sick to my stomach.
Bastard. I gave you everything I could and this is how you repay me?
I hope you burn.
I had given him my heart and it didn’t mean a damn to him. I can see her, wrapped in his arms, smiling like the flaming haired temptress that she is, breasts to his chest, soft lips to his. It wouldn’t leave me, the nightmarish vision. I felt sick to my stomach.
Bastard. I gave you everything I could and this is how you repay me?
I hope you burn.
Literature
1.
They say you shouldn't drink with Death,
and yet I find myself pouring
another glass of amber liquid.
She's quiet, my companion;
doesn't talk much.
It's strange to see her in person
after hearing all the tales
and fables meant to scare
little children and to
put grown men in their places.
She's different than I expected--
lighter, not quite so hidden behind
a gray cloak or embedded in the shadows.
I ask her why she has graced me
with her presence, and she turns her
hooded head in my direction.
Long ivory fingers clutch the glass
and I notice her nails, like mine,
have been gnawed as far down as possible.
She doesn't answer my question-
Literature
She Was With the Stars
The amber girl
was preserved perfectly
and her silky hair and porcelain skin
gleamed like a doll's
But the scientists weren't able to keep
her soul burning
because though she was in the
glass case filled with chemicals and fluids
and they were desperately trying to pump
oxygen into her lungs,
her mind was still up in space
with the stars
So the sun was extinguished
despite the cries and mournful screams
because they had
broke her
and the many who looked up
at her light and glory
slowly began to rot away
And so not a single thing was solved
Literature
i indent because.
my poetry
is a
contortionist
{i simply
guide her spine}
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A story in one hundred words or less.
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