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Literature Text
My petals are falling for you
The stars are dying and I don't know what to do
Our hearts are breaking
There's so much at stake and
I don't want to leave
But you're making it hard for me
To stay
Don't let me walk away
The stars are dying and I don't know what to do
Our hearts are breaking
There's so much at stake and
I don't want to leave
But you're making it hard for me
To stay
Don't let me walk away
Literature
I'm letting you go
Song for my sons that I wrote
12/22/2015
50 miles of driving rain
on the hood of my car
50 miles away from you
never seem so far
I know I've made my mistakes
I pushed you away
but see
I'm letting you go
because you mean that much to me
it'll be a sacrifice
I want you to know
it took a lot of thinking
the decision to go
It ain't something that I did on a dime
and I know somehow , someway
that over time
you'll understand the reasons why
And you'll see
That I'm letting you go
because you mean that much to me
People get to leaving
For all kinds of reasons
And many blame the other for why
But you need to see
That this time it
Literature
find your way back
For Danna. Sorry.
The kitchen was a mess. Bowls were strewn over the countertops, dirty dishes everywhere. Salad ingredients lay wilting on the table and a pot of soup was decomposing on the stove. Michelle and Yael were cooking. Their mother would have told them to clean up as they went, not to make such a big mess. But they didn’t have to worry about that right now.
“Okay, yeah, so just mix that-“
“Got it”
“And…now add four tablespoons lemon juice.”
“Four ta-like, are you positive? That’s a lot of lemon juice.“
“Oh no, no, okay wait, I lied, teaspoons”
Laughter
Literature
Zeich: Running away
I had found myself in a small orphanage somewhere near upstate New York. There I would meet a girl at the Catholic school that I went to. "Our Lady of Mercy" or something it was called. It was nice..I honestly wouldn't have
minded staying there if she did.
Her name was Sunny. She had hair that was a beautiful strawberry blonde mess that made her envy green eyes pop. I would stare at her as she combed it out in the morning. I loved the way it fell over her shoulders when she was done. It framed her face. She looked almost sickly because of how fair her freckled completion was.
It was the first time I felt butterflies in my stomach...I wa
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Rawr .-.
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Comments6
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A beautiful poem. Catharsis, I must say, finds its purest form in creation.