shortshort story/poemish thingy. eh.

I'm curled up in a ball,
sobbing.

And its mostly your fault.
But at the same time, it's my fault too.

I apologized ten times,
but not enough.

I threw my phone at the wall again,
the black stains on my pillow signify the sheer fact:
I fucked up. again.

I'll trace my veins with this glitter
and fake that I'm alright.
--------------------------------------------------------

*phone rings*
'Hello?'
'Hey, its Mike'
'Yea, I know.'

A friendly conversation turns from awkward,
to worse.

He just can't seem to understand that I'm sorry,
and I know that I fucked up,
and ever since then, I can't function properly.

But whose fault is that?
Surely not God's,
surely not his.

But mine.

I'll get over it.
.
.
.
eventually.

Author notes

hmmm.
i dont like how i feel right now.
or what i've done in the past.
damn me.

Please tell me what you think

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Comments


  • ohsnap-kathy
    June 8, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    I love the ending =]
    "I'll trace my veins with this glitter
    and fake that I'm alright."- very nice =]


  • Spiritual Nature
    April 13, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    The story line is so raw and real, no pretense here. Great write.


  • PlasticPrecious
    April 13, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    ugh! i wanna fuck this guy up sp much right now!!!