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Literature Text
i spread the contents of my lunch out with a flourish, crumpling the brown paper bag in one hand
carelessly, i glance down
and freeze
because in the messy crime zone that is my lunch, there lies a cupcake
an innocent cupcake with white frosting that swirls to a point
topped with a little thunderstorm of sprinkes.
mostly blue ones.
and for the next moment
i cannot breathe
because we, he and i, used to split a cupcake every so often.
especially when we had one of those days where we would feel like skipping through the halls and singing our hearts out as we went.
he loved cupcakes with white frosting and mostly blue sprinkles.
i remember the way he would pick off every sprinkle except for the one in the center.
and the way he would sort each color into little neat piles.
we would playfully argue about who would eat the last, center, sprinkle, but he would always let me have it
until i would break it in half and hand half of my life to him with that sprinkle
after the sprinkles, we would always scrape off the sweet white frosting and spread it on the sides of the cupcake.
we would laugh together about how we had invented the first cupcake with sideburns
and then-always with a shiny plastic cafeteria knife-we would cut the cupcake in half.
he would always say 'perfect' when the knife completed its careful stroke
i would take the left half
and he would take the right
together, we would each take a bite of our pieces.
the cupcake was always gone far too soon.
but he would smile and hold me, which was the only thing i had wished for for so long
...
but then one day
with calm, quiet words
he left.
i rememeber every second afterwards, each moment filled with hazy tears and my hands turning white from the grip on my inky-black pen in hand.
...
but at this moment, i shake my head
tell myself to let those memories disappear
just like every one of those sprinkles.
and so
i take the cupcake in my hands
and bite into it.
i savor the flavor and look forward to the future
because i have my own way to eat a cupcake now.
Literature
How to Bake a Poem
How to Bake a Poem
5 metric feet in iambic squares
3 metaphors, diluted or finely chopped
2 obscure allusions with scholarly appeal
6 rhyming pairs
8 stanzas - four lines each
word play and imagery to taste
Preheat oven to desired mood
In large saucepan, melt iambic feet together with stanzas.
Stir in rhyme, but slowly.
Pepper with obscure allusions. Don't allow to clump.
Add generous dollop of metaphor.
Sprinkle in imagery and word play.
Bake on center rack until poem solidifies nicely
or is golden-brown.
Decorate with punctuation and capitalization.
Top with meaningful title.
Allow to cool.
Taste before serving
Literature
How to move on:
1. Take a deep breath.
2. Take a moment to think of nothing but her; ignore the tears welling up in your eyes. Now think of her voice. Now think of the hurt. See? No more tears.
3. Let the anger take over until she's not the person you fell in love with. Really, you don't even know who she is anymore, and it can't hurt to lose someone you don't know.
4. Read your old poems without thinking abut her; listen to love songs without crying; flirt with someone new without comparing them to her.
5. Stop writing for her, stop writing to impress her, stop writing to tell her how you're too afraid to feel. She doesn't care anymore, you shouldn't ei
Literature
How to Make it Through a Year
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
One day.
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5.30.10
based on a friend's facebook status, although the story is completely fictional and probably irrelevant.
question: does the end sound choppy to anyone? also, the second ellipsis seem slightly off to me--should i take it out?
based on a friend's facebook status, although the story is completely fictional and probably irrelevant.
question: does the end sound choppy to anyone? also, the second ellipsis seem slightly off to me--should i take it out?
© 2010 - 2024 Willowshine
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this is so sad