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I.
I'm not good with words.
I never have been.
But it didn't matter then,
Because he did all the talking.
II.
I will color your worlds with my words.
And scatter my secrets in the stars.
She wrote it on a slip of paper and slid it into my English binder.Sometimes I think of how differently things would have ended up if I'd never opened up that delicately folded note.But I did.
III.
Three mistakes:
Believing her
Trusting myself
Punishing the child
Oh,and letting her take me home.
Well the backseat of a 1980 Nissan Skyline.Classy I know.
III
I prepared to tell her. I practiced my monologue in the mirror more times than I can remember. I'd decided to go with an independent factual approach, but as I practiced my routine my efforts deteriorated. By the time I reached her door, I was struggling against tears.
One Knock.
Her brother answers. He looks nervous and ashamed.
I don't even need to hear him speak to know what he's going to say.
IV
The clock. I remember the clock.
There were 15 nervous mothers I could have observed, but all I remember is the clock.
Oh , and a pack of opened condoms at the dinner table.
But I was not in the mood for irony.
V
The baby would have my eyes, I think.
Maybe my nose.
I think I would have named her Scarlet...
- by angelic bunneh |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 06/30/2011 |
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- Title: The Irony of Prose.
- Artist: angelic bunneh
- Description: Just a little something I made in creative writing...
- Date: 06/30/2011
- Tags: irony
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Comments (1 Comments)
- angelic bunneh - 06/30/2011
- I'm not stuck up so I wont vote on this haha
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