Jazeki

In my experience, there's three things that the side of the road is good for: cops, whores, and dead things. Carrion, I mean. Dead. Animals. Don't take that the wrong way. I loved her. She didn't belong on the side of the road. If she hadn't of been—I mean, if you had seen the way she looked that day, you would have loved her, too. You would know it wasn't my fault.
She didn't realize that the side of the road ain't...Isn’t a place for girls like her...Dressed like that. She said she was goin' to a party. She was walkin’ to a party halfway across town. Only no one told her it was halfway across town.  
She wouldn't of made it any—Don't look at me like that! I was bein' nice offering her a ride. She didn't know where she was goin'. She didn't know that the side of the road is only a good place to be if you're a whore.
So, I asked her—politely, mind you—where she was goin' dressed like that. First, she said a walk.  She a

You wake up and ask the world,
“Hey, am I good enough today?”
Wondering what’s so special
about being someone’s baby
or the one that got away.
When everyone’s paired off
until it’s just the Universe and I,
do your thoughts drift to me?
I have always loved you.
Even if you don’t remember my name.
And the idea of our past is future tense.
When the pain gets to be a little too familiar,
a little too comfortable,
just remember:
you are mine.  
Is it better to play pretend at happiness,
to hum forgotten lullabies in darkness  
when you think no one is listening
as tears slide down your cheek?
Are you dedicating your personal space to someone special?
Or is it just empty bedside manner?
Dear lover, who I haven’t met yet, these abandoned kisses are yours.
When you hear that soft whisper of your name, that’s me.
When you feel your heart sinking
and loneliness creeps in—
When the melody fades, baby, there’s me.
And oh,

please note
this is not my intent
hating you
you are not my intent, my intended
and so, I must steel my resolve
steal myself away
from the corners of your thoughts
where you keep me neatly stashed away
and I can't let you in
to rifle through my consciousness
to flaunt my feelings
you are not my intented
and so, I must go now,
and close the door on the idea of us
there will be others
I'm sure
and we'll move on with time
even if we--
this isn't my intent

“Honestly, Fox. I would have thought you would have shared that you were a writer before clogging the whole bookstore for a signing,” Kate laughed, shifting between handing over a giant book of love poetry and balancing the handful of classics in her hand.
Derek looked down at the book and then back at Kate. “Fox?”
“Y’know. You…. aren't Fox. I'm sorry. It's just you look like--I’m Kate.”
“Hi. Did you want me to sign this? I mean, I didn't write it.”
Kate blushed and stared at the book with its gilded heart cover. “N-no. Yes! Please.”
“Just checking,” Derek smiled. “Who do you want me to make it out to?”
“Me. I'm single...I mean...Just me is good. God, you're hot.”
Derek blushed and laughed, doing his best to take the comment in stride. He was used to housewives making comments over how cute he was or fangirls nervously giggling and handing over their favorite books from the

Jela always wanted a pet.
“A loyal one,” she insisted to her mother over dinner. “That goes with me on adventures. And is super cuddly.”
“Are you fighting with Ren again?”
Jela had been getting into fights with her boyfriend a lot. Her mother attributed it to the throes of a teenager in love. Jela attributed it to the fact that Ren was a stupid boy who never wanted to do anything exciting anymore.
“No...Well, maybe,” Jela said, sticking a fork absentmindedly into her bowl of pasta. “But I still want a pet.”
“How about a Birb or a Galaxy Dog?”
“Nah. I want to choose my own.”
“There's a litter of Feli kittens next door,” Jela’s father mused. “Both colors, too. You can pick one of those.”
Jela cocked her head. “Maybe,” she told her parents as she stood. “I'll be back. Thanks for dinner.”
---
It only took a few minutes for the seventeen year old to cut a

There have been disappearances for as long as there has been a path through the forest.
It began with bands of travelers just passing through. Then, with residents heading into town. The old. The young. The sick. The stragglers.
The circumstances would always be the same: a group moving through the forest at night; a rather sudden bout of mist, the fortunate appearance of lights along the forest path, and the sudden loss of a party member.
Rumors were that the forest was relieving itself of whoever was the most burdensome: the misbehaving child, the ungrateful city dweller, the cripple brandishing a cane at shadows.
And so Ostleans took to traveling in the mornings, the afternoons, or on especially sunny days so as to avoid the possibility of being “taken by the mist.”
But there was always the off chance that it might rain or a person would be forced to travel at night.  And that was when the disappearances would happen. There would be no trace left and sending a searc

“Don’t go in the potty,” Chloe told Ryoko as she pushed past her with her arms full of perfume and an assortment of Yankee Candle tea lights in shades of pink. “I’m using it.”
“Did you eat too much taco pizza again?”
“Excuse you. No. I’m doing a love spell to make James fall in love with me.”
“What. You just met him this week. And you barely know him?”
“I know he is The One. Because women’s intuition and this spell from Google that is going to make it so.”
Ryoko rolled her eyes. “You’re going to curse him into loving you? That’ll go over real well.”
“It’s not a curse. It says ‘love spell’ right on the paper,” Chloe answered, doing her best to motion to the crumpled spell that sat on the couch.
Ryoko caught her drift and picked it up. The paper had been sprayed with one of Chloe’s perfumes.
“Really. Your perfume smudged part of