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rubber ducks and bubble bathsShe met him at the park again, for another one of their secret meetings. Both were newly divorced, no children, with parents from the other side of the tracks. One had a reputation. The other had a commitment. She knew him and he knew her- how never seemed to be important.rubber ducks and bubble baths
Until the day that he decided to go down on one knee and ask her for forever.
He remembers ever second of that day in minute detail. The wind lightly breezing through her hair, playing with it, taunting him. The cracked wood of the old bench, grafitied to high heaven. The creaky rustle of the swing as it gently swung back and forth without a passen
by ~quietspace
GoodbyeThey go and put on their shoes in the hallway, both upset that he has to leave earlier than usual.Goodbye
“I’ll write.”
“I know.”
She walks him out of the door and he looks at her intently, expecting tears. He doesn’t know that she’s already prepared herself for this and now everything’s just numb.
“I need to go.”
“I’ll watch.”
So she stands at the edge of the driveway, watching him walk down her street though its bitterly cold and she’s only in short sleeves.
“Go in!”
“no.”
The tears are rolling down her cheeks now, but he’s too far
by ~quietspace
Define MeI am not a virgin.Define Me
Let me clarify. “Virgin” holds a generalization that I’d rather you not make. Instead, let me tell you that I have had sex.
I have had sex with- no, not any guy, not at any time, not anywhere- one person. One man.
But I do not know his name.
I was fortunate enough not to get pregnant, not to contract a deadly disease that I have noticed. Of course, it could just be lying dormant inside me, waiting to spring at a time most inconvenient for me, as sicknesses so often seem to. But as of this moment I am not suffering, a fact for which I am grateful.
I take that
by ~quietspace
99 percent99%99 percent
The knife always seems to tremble.
Not even the knife- I don’t use a knife at times. More just my hand. As if I know what I’m doing is wrong…but I do it anyway. Story of my life. Yours too right?
Wrong.
I don’t even fit the profile. I’m not an angsty, kill me now, I-don’t-care type of teen. I don’t listen to dark music, I don’t have slasher dreams, I don’t write bloody poetry, and, 99% of the time, I absolutely hate blood.
99%.
But you see, 99% is imperfect. 99% leaves room for error, for mistake. 99% is what makes humans…humans. Because that 1% can do a whole l
by ~quietspace
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thanks for the fave.
<3
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you're so endearing, you're so beautiful,
well I don't look like they do, and I don't love like they do
but I don't hate like they do
am I ever on your mind?
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Shine on, you crazy diamond.
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Every stock picture have a potential, it’s up to the artist to find it!
Stock/texture: ~LunaNYXstock
lp, Mitja
[link]
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ništa novo, ništa preterano
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