6
Poor Marie wrapped up in blankets that never brings her warmth.
Downing drugs that never drain out the pain.
Yelling words that makes us both more miserable.
Does she know though?
That those striking brown eyes are electric.
That her words, her past, her present although so ugly her eyes have never lost that little spark.
Is it hope?
I'm not sure ... I've watched her drag her feet across gravel to a funeral home to smoke cigarettes over two open cassettes. She never stays for the burial rites and never sheds a tear.
How'd I come into existence?
Where'd I start from?
My birth or conception?
Let's just say I understand why she hates Carol so much, I'll break her legs if I loved Maria but I don't think that'll change nothing.
December 18th 16 years ago Marie exiled into Medusa's reality and I, I am a product of a Poseidon.
YOU ARE READING
YELLOW WINTER
Teen FictionI like him...oh my God! I do? I like his greasy skin, the way he always sort of hides his smile... I like that he isn't conventionally attractive, he isn't aesthetic. He's real, like real normal. I like that I can go out with him and no one would...