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tcr!
· Sep 16, 2015 at 11:20 am
So Maggie wrote this poem last night using words from her spelling list. She turned 10 last July.
I cannot groan,
Or my voice will turn faint.
The ghost of my past,
Shows me visions of playing,
On the coast of Spain.
Charcoal,
My past is burnt.
Painting,
My past is a mixture of darkness and sorrow.
Flaming arrows fly through the air.
I remember bowling with my father,
Preparing a feast with my mother,
The appeal of praise
Running through the wheat field
Running so fast I could not hear anything,
Not even speech.
Now I crease the picture,
The only memory,
Of my past.
She’s going to surpass me in pretty much everything.
jimi hindrance experience
· Sep 16, 2015 at 6:46 pm
i love it.
jimi hindrance experience
· Sep 17, 2015 at 9:00 am
smiling as i say this, only serious too though: how worried are you that she sounds so grownup? :)
tcr!
· Sep 17, 2015 at 11:29 am
Often times it dumbfounds me.
tcr!
· Sep 15, 2015 at 6:04 pm
I wouldn’t mind if today was Friday and I had two billion dollars.
tcr!
· Sep 15, 2015 at 3:48 pm
Today is stolen and I’s wedding anniversary.
It’s the first time in our 13 years of marriage that I didn’t get her something.
It’ll be the first time we didn’t celebrate.
This past July was 16 years that we’ve been together.
Life sucks.
keamoose
· Sep 15, 2015 at 7:17 pm
That does suck.
Every year on July 20 I still find myself thinking “Was there something I’m supposed to do today?” and then I realize whose birthday it is. Nope, no, nothing I needed to do today after all.
tism
· Sep 15, 2015 at 8:33 pm
Got no bandaids for you. :-(
Look at M. and smile. If she catches you staring just make a joke.
She’s your gift.
tcr!
· Sep 16, 2015 at 2:19 pm
Thanks guys!
The good news is that I made it through… I figured yesterday would be kinda hard. There’d prob be something wrong with me if I didn’t feel sad.
jimi hindrance experience
· Sep 16, 2015 at 6:49 pm
yeah, the maggie girl.
tcr!
· Sep 15, 2015 at 2:41 pm
I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.
jimi hindrance experience
· Sep 17, 2015 at 9:02 am
bleak chic. how worried are you that you sound so grownup? :(
sorry, i just saw the whole piece, including author. very nice stuff.
tcr!
· Sep 14, 2015 at 5:05 pm
Bananas will never talk shit about you. Not because they don’t have mouths….but because they respect the choices you make.
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