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By BlackMageDarkness   |   Watch
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Published: February 15, 2016
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t
tremors
curled over a porcelain mouth, i let my dinner fall out. it's 9:33 p.m. and i think about saturday, when rain hit the pavement like firecrackers, the sky darker than the shadows behind the shower curtain.        i know there's a spider burrowed between those plastic folds. funny thing about deep spaces; they feel better when they're stuffed full. i think about how your fingertips made my skin feel soft and breakable, how your tongue was warm, about how my legs wouldn't stop shaking and you laughed, whispering, "you okay?"        well, there's this experience known as an aftershock. hands clutching cold tile,
S
Seasons of Violet.
We called her Violet, and she was. We knew her when she was young and pale, during Fall And when we'd climb old trees, their brittle branches Like welcoming arms Would snap in two And we'd cascade to the earthy ground Carpeted with golden and red and orange And as we fell, Secretly, she'd wish with all the goodness in her heart That she were a leaf as well That like a leaf, she could be swept away to some distant place In arms that would not break In arms that belonged to people who truly loved her. We called her Violet, and she was. And with the changing of the seasons, Winter had taken away her smile and replaced it with t
s
stop ruining autumn.
listen: fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider. but i liked the idea of it. listen: two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme. and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end." listen: on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape. lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho
© 2016 - 2019 BlackMageDarkness

Just a bit of insight I write as i crawl deep into the bottle of whiskey. 

Recommended Literature
t
tremors
curled over a porcelain mouth, i let my dinner fall out. it's 9:33 p.m. and i think about saturday, when rain hit the pavement like firecrackers, the sky darker than the shadows behind the shower curtain.        i know there's a spider burrowed between those plastic folds. funny thing about deep spaces; they feel better when they're stuffed full. i think about how your fingertips made my skin feel soft and breakable, how your tongue was warm, about how my legs wouldn't stop shaking and you laughed, whispering, "you okay?"        well, there's this experience known as an aftershock. hands clutching cold tile,
S
Seasons of Violet.
We called her Violet, and she was. We knew her when she was young and pale, during Fall And when we'd climb old trees, their brittle branches Like welcoming arms Would snap in two And we'd cascade to the earthy ground Carpeted with golden and red and orange And as we fell, Secretly, she'd wish with all the goodness in her heart That she were a leaf as well That like a leaf, she could be swept away to some distant place In arms that would not break In arms that belonged to people who truly loved her. We called her Violet, and she was. And with the changing of the seasons, Winter had taken away her smile and replaced it with t
s
stop ruining autumn.
listen: fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider. but i liked the idea of it. listen: two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme. and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end." listen: on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape. lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho
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