Wednesday, December 14, 2011

day 15 prose:

his heart cried and wrenched to the aching emptiness inside. there was nothing he could do now but regret. regret. it was raining outside but in his heart was the storm of the century. he felt the gale tearing him apart from side to side and the deluge threatening to drown him, but he knew it was only his heart that had the power to make him feel like death should take him away tonight; he knew that it was only her who could make his heart feel this way: skip a beat, pulsate, race, and now pause, stop, and ache with despair. there was nothing he could do but regret.

she was gone with the pliers to his heart.

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poetry (here)

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