She left the beach carrying with her a storm cloud of cold air and endless waves of glory.
Gagging comes from somewhere else.
I sat. She huffed and she puffed. I watched her do what she does beautiful. Beautiful does what she does mean it unattended to and uncared for.
Why would he say that to her now? He is the hero. He was the hero he is the hero.
They say she’s cursed. I think so too loving forever not one but many take the money and run. A deep bass reaches into her stomach and she forces her arms around him sad not her. Cursed but forever she cannot be hurt it has been decided.
He is soft and wrong. Not should not. Just not right.
She stole the truth from him unlike mortgages and religion often do, loved it right out with realizing.
She was still there when Cole left. She was gone when Emily left. She was there waiting. We never heard an encounter. We wished we had. Then I was alone. I kept seeing her sitting on my couch. Emily had returned to D.C. earlier than expected due to a coming hurricane. I imagined the girl walking barefoot at a slant. I hoped it was over. It wasn’t over for her. I hoped I would not see her again. I kept seeing her sitting on my couch. I imagined her knocking on the door asking to stay again pushing in before. Her way. Since I had no peephole, I tried looking through the small crack at the bottom of my front door to see if she had come back, looking for her shoes her frail curled up. I imagined her killing a baby frail curled up. I tried to be quite as I told people the story over the phone. I imagined her dead in water. I thought about her for weeks.
She’s a ghost in our heads. We watched. We watched as hard as we could. We watched her crying on the stoop. We watched her sleeping outside the apartment. We watched her stuffing her face on my couch. We watched her mumble, laugh and cry all at the same time. We watched her curl up on the couch without question. We watched her sleep. We watched her not steal anything. We watched her not know we were watching her. We watched her empty her purse on the floor. We watched as hard as we could. We watched her leave. But we never watched her enter the unlocked apartment. If it were a film we would have seen her open the front door slowly, take the coffee cake from the kitchen and make herself comfortable on the couch. But it wasn’t a film; we were out for a smoke. But we never watched her enter the apartment. She may have walked through the wall.
I might do what I’m told. She never does.
A dance party to celebrate their death and their death and their death and their death and their death and their death again and the other death the death of the other.
Let’s get it on!
I cry that note belongs to you.
He becomes her makeup and tits for years.
We went to hear the philosopher speak, and he hit on me.