Categories
Creative Writing Love

Loaded

You made a dick move.

Now it’s my turn.

I’ve blown into the chamber and eyed it hard.

6 chambers so loaded.

Now I’ve cocked it.

I’m taking my aim.

And just fired a question at you.

— Do you still love me?

I watch you — freeze, stutter, whimper and lick your lips.

I fire 5 more.

— Do you still love us?

— Do you dare leave now?

— Was it a him?

— Was it a her?

— Will you let me kiss you Good Bye?

I watch you take a knee to the floor.

Answer-less.

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Questions

Is it true that unions end because one person loves a little bit less?

But what happens if I told you that I am willing to love you a little bit more than your little bit less?

A few years down the line, would you still give me a smile that your lips promised to only share with me?

Will your voice still have that curious inflection when you whisper words that mean nothing yet mean so much?

Can I take your lips with my tongue and make them mine to do or to die?

We should start this journey together, and so, a question: Will you join me for coffee tonight?

Categories
Creative Writing Love

Talk

Your one hot minute away made me a hot mess.

All I wanted was for you to sit with me so I can tell you my tale. 

You knew that if you won’t then no one else will sit here right next to me. 

So I left you.

You because you refused to come sit. 

But he saw and he chose me.

Me because you never came. 

So I left you. 

Leaving you was easy to do because he was easier to talk to. 

He did the two simple things that you wouldn’t: 

1. He sat with me. 

2. And he listened.

Categories
Creative Writing Horror

Thought

John wanted to talk about Jim and him, and so he tried to part Jim’s hair with his gentle fingertips.

But Jim parted his teeth instead. Today, the upper cut dislodged a tooth and a thought. One went sliding down John’s shirt while the other flew upwards.

Choking with John’s hands on his throat, Jim knew this fact: When John hits me, I know that he loves me, because he finally sees me.

The cat, which wasn’t part of this conversation, could only look on in alarm. The poor thing sniffed at the thought that was lying sprawled in shock and agony.

The thought was a whisper: One has to finish the other one off. I rather it be me, my love.The cat sniffed tuna and waddled nonchalantly towards the kitchen. It wagged its tail and emitted a purposeful thought: Stories about love need to be eternal, don’t you think? Just like this one where killing is part of the plot.