sjsprWriting

You forgot.

I left the door open.

Meet me at the Equinox.

Our eyes danced in silhouettes of lavender blazon skies

Becoming intoxicated in tinged heavens of wine

Bodies bathed in burning orchards and breathless lips

Arms laced tighter than romance wrapped in crimson

You remember.

I left the door open.

Meet me at the Equinox.

I don't have a favorite short story. I'm sad to say I only read them whenever I am assigned to read them for English class. It's not that I don't want to read short stories, it's just that whenever I have free time or am bored my first thought isn't "Hey, I think I'm going to read a short story", it's usually "Im going to read a book" or "I'm going to call ____" or "I'm going to watch TV", etc. But out of all the stories I've read in English class my favorite genre is definitely Greek mytholo...

'This wasn't what I wanted, not what I chose'

But then again, no one has ever been able to constrain a heart.

I know it's not fair. This desire, this wanting you feel. I see it in your gaze, in your touch. I see it in the way you can't stay away, or how you automatically search for the familiar silhouette, body.

The arm lightly dusted with hair you want to run your fingertips down. The eyes you want to confidently look into without ...

Stupid.

Stupid, she says.

Can you really not tell what that does to her.

Do you really think she’s ok?

Don’t you know how hard she tries?

Tell me, how much more can she be?

Stupid.

How much higher do her grades have to rise?

How much smaller does her waist have to be?

How much smarter and polite should she be?

For you not to call her stupid again.

It was a beautiful day. They sky was very blue; little white fluffy clouds were floating around. Birds were chirping around the trees. The sunny day was filled with emotion. A mode of optimisms was reflected around the air. It was a beautiful day after a long time.

It was perfect for outdoor activities. Although Lily did not like outdoor activities, her instinct of cooking food made her go out to the backyard to do some barbeque.

Betsy, her dong, followed her. She had just came f...

This girl with her spiked shoes and red lips, this girl with her head held high and her proud gaze forward. She passes you by and you are amazed at this girl with the eyes of a warrior and the walk of a queen. This girl whose armor is dented and chipped and stronger than ever, this girl who breathes with a purpose.

This girl, who passes you by, who meets your eyes and smiles, understands you the way only a girl like her can.

This girl who started off just l...

Life's Parallels

Perched on the metal drain, over looking the hard concrete floor. Unhappy where he lays. A small sliver of green surrounded by walls built of cement that confine it. Growing slow and steady, the only one there, completely solitary. He elongates his stem. Growing up. It’s the only way. Below is the cold metal stunting the growth of his roots. No where to build his foundation. To his sides the concrete that constricts him. No where to free his leaves. Growing ...

Wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. It’s her, pick it up. Keep yourself together. Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Don’t apologize. She’s lying, don’t let her. Don’t forgive her. Don’t believe her. (You want to). Accept her apology. Don’t cry when she lies. Don’t scream when she calls you again to apologize. Forgive her again. Wake up to your tear-stained pillows. It’s her, clean it up. Don’t cry when she lies again. Don&...

Story of the boy who got tired 

I want to tell you about a boy who loved a girl so much he heard her voice in corners, and her face in every person he met. He painted her a beautiful world through simple, delicate words, but she didn’t notice because she was too busy painting a beautiful world to someone else. Still, he was determined to be something in her life: a hug on Mondays, a couple of stolen looks on Tuesdays, small conversation on Wednesdays, silence on Thursdays, an...