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Literature Text
There were rhythmic thumps at her door. It wasn't quite the sound of knocking, but she knew there must be something there. She stood and walked to the front door, glancing through the peephole. There was nothing but the gaseous elements of air existing upon the concrete stairs. Still, the sound continued - not worsening, yet promising no end.
Fear began in the bit of her stomach, and so she called up her ex-boyfriend. The only person she recently felt close to that still cared enough for her to drop anything and come to her door. Her cell rang into her ear for thirty-two seconds. Voicemail. She didn't bother to listen to his words before leaving her own. If only she knew the amount of regret she'd later feel.
With no other idea left but to rely on herself, they glanced one more through the door. She opened just a creak - and the sound of thumping increased immediately. There was nothing within her field of vision that revealed anything. Her mind proposed the idea that it may be coming from the side of the house, and so she stepped out. Instinctively, she looked down before taking her first step. Her scream brought over the attention she originally wanted to find the source of the sound.
I loved her. She broke my heart, but I loved her. So I sent her a gift. The night my shattered heart pumped blood so fast from the adrenaline, when the blood just poured from every cut on my body, the evening my heart thumped in pieces without me. I gave her my last gift so that she can never forget me. I gifted her my heart, and left it on her doorstep. I knew she'd call me before she found it, and she would have heard my story. The reason I did it, how much I love her, and how to keep a broken heart still beating and able to love. But she never listened, and now nobody will know.
Fear began in the bit of her stomach, and so she called up her ex-boyfriend. The only person she recently felt close to that still cared enough for her to drop anything and come to her door. Her cell rang into her ear for thirty-two seconds. Voicemail. She didn't bother to listen to his words before leaving her own. If only she knew the amount of regret she'd later feel.
With no other idea left but to rely on herself, they glanced one more through the door. She opened just a creak - and the sound of thumping increased immediately. There was nothing within her field of vision that revealed anything. Her mind proposed the idea that it may be coming from the side of the house, and so she stepped out. Instinctively, she looked down before taking her first step. Her scream brought over the attention she originally wanted to find the source of the sound.
I loved her. She broke my heart, but I loved her. So I sent her a gift. The night my shattered heart pumped blood so fast from the adrenaline, when the blood just poured from every cut on my body, the evening my heart thumped in pieces without me. I gave her my last gift so that she can never forget me. I gifted her my heart, and left it on her doorstep. I knew she'd call me before she found it, and she would have heard my story. The reason I did it, how much I love her, and how to keep a broken heart still beating and able to love. But she never listened, and now nobody will know.
Literature
Real Estate
The cost of intellectual property has gone up.
I can already feel the ideas curdling like milk,
Strings of silver silk lining
Tangling it up so neatly--
A package for the loan-shark in my bed in the morning.
A message to my lover, to whom I owe such a debt:
All you ever do anymore is take.
My poems crumble at the touch,
Fading into the clusters of Sunday brunch and Family Guy reruns.
What's the price of the two seconds of quiet
Without a pile of unfilled lines awaiting my autograph
Ruffling through the papers you'll have me sign-
What wouldn't I give to sign with the devil, over you...
Teetering on the corner of thought,
My pen limp and b
Literature
distance
twin-headed imps cackle at pointless wars they start
pushing conflicted sides into each other while
refusing to allow a grey middle-ground this
endless battle of pristine and pitch
loses itself in the downcast eyes and
shaking bones of childlike minds fighting
to grow and
their skin sprouts streams like pegasus stepping
down to create springs but the ages-old symbol of purity is
no longer clean but tarnished rust and
each gentle slip is a sigh against waiting limbs that
tremble with anticipation and weigh down with guilt but
some addictions can't be warded off with words
and salt only stings
and the battleground is littered with broken bot
Literature
Rombos
por Romy Lara
El aire gélido se coló en la habitación y alborotó los papeles minuciosamente acomodados en el escritorio. Tronándose los nudillos de la mano izquierda, Julio se incorporó y cerró la ventana de un golpe. Afuera el cielo se caía pedazo por pedazo. Reacomodó el desorden que se había hecho en su mesa de trabajo, colocando cada documento en su lugar: los de etiqueta amarilla en la carpeta amarilla, los marcados con verde en la papeleta verde y así consecutivamente con cuatro colores más.
Procedió a sacar un cuaderno de portadas negras de su
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She loved him enough to call, but she would never admit she still had feelings. In her selfish moment she didn't listen to his words. She doubted her love and caused the world to never know the secret to mending a broken heart.
On another note... Imagine opening your door to a live heart covered in cracks - broken, snapped, shattered - but still beating. Frighteningly... Hopeful?
Inspired by "The end" by little-wolf-child
"this red organ beating inside
brings back to life what had died
You've taken my everything
made the pain really sting
love is the death of me
and shall soon set me free
with the last beat to a broken heart
comes the words that tore it apart"
On another note... Imagine opening your door to a live heart covered in cracks - broken, snapped, shattered - but still beating. Frighteningly... Hopeful?
Inspired by "The end" by little-wolf-child
"this red organ beating inside
brings back to life what had died
You've taken my everything
made the pain really sting
love is the death of me
and shall soon set me free
with the last beat to a broken heart
comes the words that tore it apart"
Comments3
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This is so deep and so dark and so sad at the same time. And it reminds me how powerful love is. For better or worse...