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snspoetry · 14 hours ago
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The Loneliest Number
This is in response to the @writerscreed challenge for this week, "The Loneliest Number."
CW: violence
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One is the loneliest number
That you’ll ever know.
The party started with six,
Two jock boys
With their disco sticks handy,
Four fresh girls,
Powder-puffs,
The all-American sluts.
I watched through the windows
The tits on display,
Lips plump with wasabi gloss,
Tossed hair and devil-may-care auras,
Helmet hair,
Adolescent abs,
Some ol’ fashioned sexual harassment,
Heat hissing
Through the air
With sizzles and cracks,
Axe body spray triumphant
In its goal to overwhelm.
What’s your poison?
Matt and Britney did the dirty work -
Liquor stolen from pillhead parents,
Xanax knocking them back
On their sectionals,
Paving the way
To teenage hunger,
Stronger than anything
That comes before or after.
Vodka evaporates
Between painted lips,
And I think
Even the Russians would be impressed.
Then rum,
Then gin,
Then tequila one
Tequila two
Tequila three
Tequila floor.
My legs are going numb
But I wait until their eyes close
One by one, like the shades
Of a dark downtown apartment building
When something wicked
Its way comes.
Booze:
The best blackout money can buy.
The window takes
A hefty push,
But I find my way through
And drop soft like a cat,
Right on my feet,
Nary a sound made.
I finger the holster,
Savoring the before
Before the after,
And slowly slide
The sharpened blade
Out from the leather,
Seeing my reflection
In the object of my
Dark passenger,
A shadow with a purpose
As old as the oldest
Apex predator.
Now it’s my house.
Not a creature did stir,
Not even a mouse.
One by one,
I hold them in my leathered arms
And bring the blade to their throats,
Making each incision carefully
With a wild labor of love
So they bleed
The last few heartbeats
Onto the dirty basement rug.
They are porcelain dolls
With wide glassy eyes,
And I have no coin to pay the ferryman,
So here they stay
As life slips away slowly.
The girls are beautiful again -
Death washes them of sin.
Death makes whores Madonnas.
The blood is dark,
The hour late.
It is hard to let go
Because again,
I am alone.
We were six and one
And now we are one
And done.
One is the loneliest number
That you’ll ever know -
When what you love is the transition,
There can be no standing still
To savor the moment.
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helenasurvives · 6 months ago
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i am asked about my favorite color.
i am seven
and my reply is
pink
because i am a girl
and pink
is a princess color.
i am asked about my favorite color.
i am ten
and i like
green
because a boy told me that pink
is lame and girly.
i am asked about my favorite color.
i am thirteen
and i tell them
purple
it is unique and spunky
like i want to be.
i am asked about my favorite color.
i am seventeen
and i just say
red
i do not say
it is bright and angry at the world
as i am
i cannot form the words to express
all of my frustrations
so i paint my lips with
rage.
i am asked about my favorite color.
i am twenty
and it’s pink
i remember the joy
of being a child
i reclaim the freedom
of femininity
because i cannot remember
what my shoulders felt like
before the depression
hung from them.
i am asked about my favorite color.
i am twenty-six
and my answer is
brown
it confuses most people
they don’t see it
they may think of dirt
and dust
and dead things
but it is coffee with friends
and the chocolate chip cookies
my mom used to make.
it is my hair
and my eyes
amber and gold
in the sun
and i love myself
again
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i-wrotethisforme · a year ago
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14 months ago we were talking about where our beach house was going to be, because you wanted west coast and I wanted southeast. 17 months ago I went with you to the doctor and I sat in the waiting room and I filled out your forms with information I knew as well as my own. 8 months ago I got rid of the car you helped me pick out. The car that two years ago you drove home from that bar on the lake after three martinis and a little too much sun. A year ago you were my life and now I have an apartment that you’ve never seen. Today, I realized I was wearing an outfit that you’ve never touched any part of except for the earrings, so I took them off. I never think about how my life and everything it revolves around can so drastically change, until it does. And it always does. But the same way someone you once knew everything about becomes a stranger, strangers can become someone you know everything about. And there’s one out there right now whose name you don’t even know, who will one day help you name your child.
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i-wrotethisforme · 2 years ago
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There’s a guy out there right now that you’re going to marry. You haven’t met him yet but he’s alive right now and out there living his life. Maybe he’s in line at a Starbucks on the way to work. Or waiting to cross a street exactly like the one you’re crossing right now, but in Chicago. Or maybe he’s at a wedding with the girl he thinks he’s going to marry, who you’re one day going to know everything about. But it doesn’t matter, it just matters that he’s out there right now, doing things. Things that one day, maybe you’ll be doing with him, or maybe he’ll never do again once he meets you. That’s not the point- the point is he’s real and he’s doing something right now. And one day, you’re going to be doing the same thing at the same time and your lives are never going to be the same after that. You just have to wait.
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i-wrotethisforme · a year ago
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One day you’ll meet someone and everything will just make sense. Why every other relationship didn’t work out, why no one else was ever good enough, why you’ve always felt like something was missing. Why that one breakup didn’t hurt as bad as it should have and why you let that other one get to you way too much. Every piece you’ve ever wanted and every piece you didn’t even know you needed will suddenly be there and everything will feel like it’s finally coming together the way that it should. And there are so many people who have found this person who will read this and completely understand. So if this sounds fake, impossible, or unrealistic to you, it’s just because you’re not one of them yet.
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vodkakilledtheteen · 2 years ago
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To be honest, I'm scared of love there’s something frightening about it. I feel like love is a dangerous epidemic.  It starts slowly and then one day all of a sudden it erupts a black and blue ocean inside your heart. What scares me the most is that love can be killed so easily, but it can be resurrected, but then when it's brought back to life like nothing happened it turns into a lingering ghost that haunts you and you just hope  the past doesn't come back.
Alexa Evangelista, the book i’ll never finish writing 
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i-wrotethisforme · 2 years ago
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Sometimes I’ll watch a show everyday for three weeks then stop for two days and never watch that show again. And it’s not a testament to the quality of the show, I’ll tell you that much. People get bored for no reason. People lose interest in interesting things just because they’re people. Now apply that to other parts of your life; some things aren’t your fault.
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vodkakilledtheteen · a year ago
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That night I wanted to set you free. I wanted you to feel something instead of feeling dark and twisted. You always talk about your past like it’s the last good thing left. You like talking about the days when life didn’t taste sour and when your blood didn’t smell like wine. But when you talk about now and what’s ahead your words spill poison inside your head. You tell me things like you regret opening up because it gave people the chance to dig holes inside your heart. But that night I wanted everything to be different. I wanted to bottle up the stars like you do to your feelings, and maybe just maybe you’ll decide to come out of the dark.
Alexa Evangelista, Random #3
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