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Here We Aren’t, So Quickly Emulation

12/11/2018

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     I always cook for you nights on end in hopes of a hug and a kiss in return. I’m not the same when I’m around you. I take my work seriously, relying on you to help. I go nuts when you cancel our plans for your friends. I walk fast to get to the chosen destination. I always loved to read. I will always love you endlessly.  
​ 

You always chew on plastic. You are mute when I try to communicate to you about my day at school. My dogs adore you. You walk like a snail. 
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Picture

   That night you cried over the simple idea of me being mentally distraught, it is like the world has stopped completely in its tracks. You are so thoughtful when you want to be. You are my ray of sunshine one day and my voodoo doll the next. 

   You are never mad. I lie on the floor internally screaming over the abundance of work on my plate. You are lost without a basketball. I always dream of growing up and moving into my own home and having a family. You hate when my blood boils. I can’t sleep without a fan on. You are my first thought upon every awakening. My mind never stops wandering. You never make a wrong decision. 


    We fight so often. We are always going out to eat at our favorite restaurants and topping it off with pints of ice cream. We are a perfect match. We can almost never come to an agreement. We are matching puzzle pieces. 

I am quick to disagree. I smile when I see the amount of my weekly paychecks, but I always think “was working that much really worth it." I am aware that I have a purpose, however that purpose is unknown. I am easily distracted. I adore your mom’s caring personality. I workout often, in hopes of bettering my goals. I always question why my life has so many ups and downs. I can never decide.
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 You take the longest showers. You know what you want and you don’t stop trying till you get it. You are a role model. You always eat your whole plate and mine. You always get on my nerves. You constantly bring me flowers.

   
I thrive in summertime. You never eat dessert. I scream when I hear noises in my empty house. You sing without a voice. I cry daily. You love to gamble, but every time you come home with a negative balance. I act like a mother figure, keeping you alive. You never tell me anything. I still get butterflies when I spot you in a crowd. 

   We sit in silence on the phone. We can’t get enough of each other.  “Let’s go on a vacation” we always say. We share a love for dogs. We people watch on days filled with nothing to do. We are always missing each other.

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     The past three years have erased the memory of what life was like before you.

By Alyvia Page  

4 Comments

The Pond

12/11/2018

4 Comments

 

He stands now surrounded by the mob
His kin slaughtered
He asks if it was worth the price 

​As he stands at the pikes end
 
Kind demons whisk him away 
He still feels the leaded blood in their flesh 

All justified
 
​He tries to sip from a better time ​
And as his eyes close he grasps a fleeting memory

Picture

A pond sits behind the hedges
The still tides bring the beast to ease
he looks to the towering manor
his shadow casts its gaze upon him
his once false look turns to its true shape

His despicable green eyes close
His coarse heart beats a obsolete rhyme
His  white teeth hide from the world
he had never felt this oppressive emotion
Even when he hurt his own brood

Oh, the lives he has taken!
He sees their tormented souls
All congregating in the still waters
He lets out a gastly howl
As his arms flail back

He feels the error of his ways
He sees the body of sin
A vile mass stands in the once calm pond
It extends its gangrenous white arms to him
As it chants his cursed name 

“Mercy!” He cries
With crystal tears streaking to the Earth like meteors 
And it judges
And it waits
Until it’s visage molds from the insufferable abyss

It bared his face
Wearing a brazen look
As it jeered at him
As it mocked him
And at last it makes him open his eyes

To greet the falling of the noose

As the crowd chants his name 

As his grand facade of stature snaps like the souls of the wronged

The rioters sing a no better tune than he

As they all lose their valiant innocence

Their fear

Their hate

Their sins

All residing in the shadow of the manor

At  the edge of the pond.
​

By Brien Wolter
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