There Were Four
It was a slow day, and for good reason. November rain drummed down on the streets of the city, sluicing through gutters and filling the air with the gentle scent of soaked concrete. The only people out in such weather had good reasons for braving the cold; they walked with heads ducked and collars turned, single-mindedly hurrying towards their destinations. Few of them stopped to consider a scruffy beggar huddled beneath the mediocre shelter of a bus stop, even when waiting under the same alcove for transportation.
It was hardly surprising. I was under the shelter because it kept off the worst of the rain, not because
It wasn’t a day that one could particularly call “extraordinary”. It contained no holidays or any celebrations to jubilate. There were no relevant anniversaries or birthdays to rejoice over. The wind did not blow in any particular way that rendered a disturbance. The birds did not sing any sort of different tune. The trees had no special swagger to their sway. The sky was its familiar hue of cerulean. The sun routinely rose in the east and set in the west. And I, just like every day, sat at my desk with both elbows perched upon the top, face pressed into my hands, cursing that very sun I mentioned for rising. How dare it rai
It's in the way you meet my eyes,
And the rest of the world melts away.
Right before we almost poured our hearts out.
It's in the way the smirk formed over your face
During the last dip
In that dance that we almost got to finish.
The way our hands touched for just one instant
Where times' hands finally rested
As I almost couldn't tell if it was deliberate or accidental.
The way you wouldn't look me in the eye
Your hand ready for flight on the doorknob
And I almost asked you to stay.
Unsure looks with unanswered questions
Silence like the smoke after a battle
Because you almost thought I had changed.
Looking at the moon like it has the an
Jonathan sat trembling in the dark. He stared at nothing, his eyes not penetrating the circle of blackness that surrounded him. A single lamp illuminated the round table he sat at, allowing him enough light to see the edges of it and nothing more. A tea pot and half-empty cup sat in the centre. With a trembling hand he reached toward it and took it towards his lips, not truly looking at it as he drank. He set the cup down on a plate. The cup rattled against it, the only sound save for the thunder that rumbled in the distance.
He heard a switch flick. Jonathan shut his eyes for a moment, temporarily blinded by the harshness of the light tha
Dear Emma,
The truth is I'm not a painter.
The truth is I followed you here from that flower shop on Whitmore Street, two and a half months ago. Please, keep reading.
You actually took my breath away when I glimpsed you holding a bunch of lilies in your slender hands at the flower shop counter. You stunned me. That's never happened to me before. I was watching you turning the bouquet left to right, you seemed in awe of the flowers' beauty. Your eyes, your perfect smile, the way you held yourself. It was not a conscious decision to follow you here. I think I was in a trance. I know how it looks; I know it sounds like a
How to love a girl who can't love herself. by lupus-astra, literature
Literature
How to love a girl who can't love herself.
one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
two.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
three.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says
I wanted to grow old with you by DanielDGriffiths, literature
Literature
I wanted to grow old with you
I wanted to grow old with you:
turn grey and fade away, subdued.
To walk with you through all the years
and face, as one, our darkest fears.
We'd burn too brightly for this Earth
and share in sorrow and in mirth;
to each the other's soul would bare
and twice the love, at once, declare.
For each would know the other's mind
and there a perfect solace find;
we would be two, though as one known –
discrete though merged & mingled grown.
I wanted to grow old, it's true:
turn grey and fade to dust with you.
I wasn't ready for you. I was ready
for a brawl. I was ready to trade in the hand
I'd been dealt for new cards, all of them
the queen of hearts. I was ready
to fight my mother for the next four years,
to blow so many holes in our relationship that we're
still half-sunk & bailing water out of a boat
we don't recognise anymore.
I was ready for a drink. I was ready
to hit rock bottom & start digging, to put out
my own fire with dirt and a shovel. I was ready
to be the kind of shitty girlfriend that leaves
you hanging on the other end of the line
while I chain smoke cigarettes
in the rain,
to spend six years and counting
waiting for another m