1417 1 0
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She lay there, skin and bones, unable to speak. Little did we know those were our last moments togethter. How cruel for her, to want to share a lifetime of thoughts and feelings in those waning moments only to be robbed of the chance. My brother and I…
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You’re listening to Smooth FM, taking you from the darkest hours to the start of a brand new day.
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He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
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This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
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Every morning when he wakes, he lies in bed and waits for one of his toes to twitch or spasm; the moment he feels one of them thrust forward, he gains courage to test his legs. He grimaces either way: one more day of walking, one more day until loss, one more trip to the…
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1417 2 1
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My third Rule of Success—and I may not have these in exactly the right order–is always get a pre-nup!
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I leapt up to retaliate when the clang of a distant door quieted my retesance. Shit, why am I so popular? I guess it was my turn to be thrown around like the guy in the Hotdog suit on the corner... Don't shoot the "Hotdog" guy... Please, please don't
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1417 1 1
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It matters little who thought of it first, what mattered was the schism. Or, to be more accurate, those on the opposite sides of the schism. And, of course, you are a part of this, dear reader. You are of one side or the other.
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It’s as she reaches into the fridge for the carton of half-and-half with the grainy waxy photo of the little girl—Last Seen 10/2/06—that the memory surfaces:
“Hey. That’s mine.”
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Ayane took another look of the area and it was large warehouse. A loud thud vibrated outside.
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The Poisoning I used to call my dad Serpico. Thirty years on the police force, and though a respected officer, he never fit in. He never had beers with the guys at the end of a shift or engaged in the more lewd locker room talk. None of the other cops were privy to which…
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1416 1 0
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in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.
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At a candlelit table near the back of the restaurant, Jack and Lois greeted the waiter as he delivered their drinks, a diet coke for him, and for her, a vodka and cranberry. He apologized for the slow bar service and promised to return in a moment to take their…
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1416 0 0
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I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
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In that time when the trunk was getting cleared out and when it became only the empty shell of what had once been so important, many things hit the match. She burned an old black negligee, a picture competing with the likes of a Vargas girl and other thin
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Some people are born that way, and some people do things to themselves
that keep them from talking. Like opening up a soda bottle with your mouth.
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Maybe it was a trick of the gloom.
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—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
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Who hasn’t at some point of the day wanted to dredge up everything in your pocket just to see what it is.
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Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;
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All the things that are his.
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1416 5 1
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A dead deer on the side of the road and the older boys not listening to her as they stab its eye with a stick.
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Pen or sword? Pick one/choose your battles carefully/for the paths oppose
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Blankets were always her undoing.
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1416 2 0
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Look at this castle: fashioned from the sturdiest sand, pages of my name
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I attended the burial of our affair when I found the notebook-maybe it should be called her diary-she had foolishly forgotten, leaving it on the deck of my beach house where she stayed while I was on that short trip to Chicago and I was numbed at first, unsure how to…
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Ok American dogs. Here my first story I wrote when I only two days old! Then evil moderator delete me and story go away. Now I three days old. I try to remember.
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In the end nothing could bring him back because I tried. All those weeks and months, yet all I have left are the tears and memories. He said when he asked the final questions to those in charge he was confused.
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Sometimes my poems escape. They crawl out through my Wi-Fi connection, I suspect.
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Osama couldn’t see any reason he shouldn’t retire. No way he could top BP Oil in the Gulf or Pacific Gas & Electric in San Bruno.
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