if i were a flower that could write
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- Parts 7
MatureOngoing10m
Last published Fri, Jan 6, 2023
Disclaimer: English is not my first language.
I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands itching, almost yelling that I was no longer writing, thoughts scrambled, piling up in vision papers like a depression room so i'll do my best to make this written paintings become a full picture spell. No presentation, just a vibe, just my glow emerging from what I considered a self sabotaging cage (but it was just me, longing for a chance to write) so please, just write. Pick up your pieces and make your stupid, wonderful collage, or else... Else... Your vivid dreams will drown you to death in visions. And no, it is not a metaphor.
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He's obsessed, insane even. He has to know her, watch her, touch her. She's his, and nothing will stop him. But she's smarter than he thinks.. ••• "You call me if he bothers you ever again, yeah?" "It's really nothing I-" he cuts me off "You'll call me." He says firmer "okay?" "Okay" I say softly, looking up at him. He's so fucking close to me. We just stand there for a moment and I'm having trouble remembering how to breathe. He leans closer, gently tilting my head up so that my eyes stay on him. "Good girl"
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