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Literature Text
No. No.
This isn't how it's done.
You're supposed to love me
and take care of me
not pretend that
I am an animal,
not pet me like a dog.
That's what you called me.
You used to say, "Good bitch.
That's right. You're my good little bitch."
But I was not your bitch....
But I was.
And when I bit you,
you would smack me and say,
"No biting, bitch."
You would pin me to the ground...
I used to think it was funny
how you thought you were in charge...
I didn't realized that you were.
I didn't realize what you'd done to me.
Not then.
You took things away...
took away everything that made me fight,
that made me strong.
So that
when you left me
I had to run after you
I had to go to you
I had to offer myself to you
like the good little bitch
I was trained to be.
But that...wasn't supposed to be me.
Hey, Lover?
Relationships and love....
That...
This isn't how it's done.
This isn't how it's done.
You're supposed to love me
and take care of me
not pretend that
I am an animal,
not pet me like a dog.
That's what you called me.
You used to say, "Good bitch.
That's right. You're my good little bitch."
But I was not your bitch....
But I was.
And when I bit you,
you would smack me and say,
"No biting, bitch."
You would pin me to the ground...
I used to think it was funny
how you thought you were in charge...
I didn't realized that you were.
I didn't realize what you'd done to me.
Not then.
You took things away...
took away everything that made me fight,
that made me strong.
So that
when you left me
I had to run after you
I had to go to you
I had to offer myself to you
like the good little bitch
I was trained to be.
But that...wasn't supposed to be me.
Hey, Lover?
Relationships and love....
That...
This isn't how it's done.
Literature
Father
She must have been
beautiful
sugar sweet
perfect
as you dressed her in innocence.
I'm sure her hair smelled of better times
and her eyes tugged at your conscience
and promised worlds
that made yours seem tragically thin.
And you were ...
weak
Now tell me, (father)
what broke your heart?
To find out you were the perfect liar?
Or to speak that ugly truth
that smashed everything
to blood-drawing shards of memories?
Because I don't need
your second-hand love
anymore.
I know, one day
you will contemplate gravity's fragilty
and fall into the sky
while we lie sleepless through nights gone hollow
with a bullet for the pain
an
Literature
Screened
I park parallel to the gutter, turn the car off, and sit a moment. The engine ticks slowly cool and I watch a couple of cars pass by me and find spaces further down the street. My car is comfortable and quiet and I have forty-five minutes to kill before I should head to class. I pull the lever on the side of my seat so I can lounge back as though I am in Dad’s armchair at home.
It is overcast and the sun has only been out for maybe two hours. Everything looks greyer.
From my new vantage point, I can see a construction site about thirty metres in front of me. I wonder what they’re building—it looks very square, and as thoug
Literature
One for Dad
I was back in the house where I could feel the melancholy
of the lonesome, crowded west.
The same house but all the memories seemed so far away.
The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air,
and the walls I had once scratched and dented were bare.
A film of neglect clung to the books he never let me touch,
“Always end up damaged.” he’d say.
Not realising that love changes things,
makes friendships stronger, give things sentiment.
Those worn covers and creased pages,
not a sign of carelessness but a sign of greatest care.
There were the bottles of wisdom placed in the cellar,
full of learning, but paling to the lesso
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Comments28
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What he did was terrible, and I'm sorry for what happened.