Which of the bold face lies will we use?
I hope that you're happy
You really deserve it
This will be best for us both in the end
Driftwood. Waif. A solitary figure sitting on the sidewalk dotted with chalk drawings by the artisan with his blue bowler hat on the floor. (which is bare, save the few pennies and nickels which he put there himself) The clap of thunder, the bang of rain on the pavement. People scattering, umbrellas raised skywards, but she stays. She stays, letting the cold raindrops seep into her clothes, watching it roll off her skin, bounce of her shoes.
This bittersweet beauty, this sadness. Oozing passion, fiery and intense. This sacrifice, this little bit that still remains although one denies its presence. Do not bleed for me, for I'm not worthy. The ghost, a spectral figure that haunts, lingering in the shadows. (Please bleed for me, for I'm not as self-sufficient as I seem.) Search deep in the recesses of your heart and you'll unearth things you never knew were there. Wake up and smell the coffee. The key doesn't fit the keyhole (and don't you think kinky). It's bittersweet. It's this sensation that something is caught in your throat. The words. The words you want so much to express.. reduced to a pile of sludge.
Vanessa Lim 2:04 p. m.
