stories - fifteen

What do you do with love that can be felt?
What do you do with love that can't be spoken of?
What do you do with love that can't be shared?
What do you do with love that can't be broken?
What do you do with love that makes your heart smile?
What do you do with love that nobody wants?
What do you with love that's just hanging?
What do you with love that's silent?
What do you do with love that's strange?
What do you with love that's bursting to be let out?
What do you do with love?
What do you do with love?
What do you do with love?
What do you do with love?

stories - fourteen

She giggled, and pointed...
You look so funny!
That hair on you...
Hahahahahaha.
Why did you get it cut like that?
He made a sad face.
You're stupid.
And you're cute.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

stories - thirteen

Waiting.
She was waiting.
She had been there, almost everyday.
Ordering the same cup of double espresso,
and was waiting...
She was observant.
Loved to look around.
Make up stories in her head.
She was waiting, really though.
That's all she was doing,
as she sat by herself looking at magazines.

stories - twelve

Keeping up pretenses is important, they said.

You are weak, a flower that can be crushed

easily in the softest of palms.

Be bold, a bitch, they said.

Fuck everyone in your path, they advised.

They told you your differences were your weaknesses.

You wouldn't grow.

You're too normal. You're nothing.

You haven't done anything. You're really nothing.

She thought about all of this.

Long and hard.

Long and hard.

Every damn day.

Every damned day.

The world was as fucked up,

as we left it last.

stories - eleven

Everything's bullshit.
Oh, come on.
Like you didn't know before.
Don't get attached.
Live your life, disconnected.
Everything sucks.
This is writing but it isn't
anything.
Nothing's good enough.
You never were,
You never will be.
But just live.
Fucked up as it is seems
This world we're a part of.
Breathe, for your time here
is short.
Who cares, really?

stories - ten

She told me to keep writing.
Keep writing, even when there are blocks...
Write. It doesn't have to make sense, she said.
Write, write, write, write, write.
And thoughts of him began to blossom.
I can't, she whimpered...
He's all I can think about.
So...
Write about him then.
But just please...
Keep writing.