Diner MAG

December 20, 2013
By Marissa Herrera BRONZE, Miami, Florida
Marissa Herrera BRONZE, Miami, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The diner girl asked me for my order
Replays of your hair falling over your eyes at 6 a.m.
Flashing through my mind again and again
She walked away when I gave no answer
I lit a cigarette
The ringing in my ears got worse
“You can’t smoke in here”
I took another drag,
Peeked a look at my watch
It was half past midnight “I said you can’t smoke in here
and you should probably get home
before your mother goes looking for you”
I put out my cigarette without looking up.
Through the devil softly,
I felt your fingers running down my back
My breath leaped out of me furiously.
Constant abstract illusions of your presence
Haunt me more than your eyes used to.
I took the last bus home.
Took my usual seat in the back corner
I chose not to look out the window tonight
I’d like to pretend there’s no world out there
Not other than mine, at least.
Do I suffer enough?

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jan. 14 2014 at 12:15 pm
Savannainthesky GOLD, West Suffield, Connecticut
11 articles 0 photos 107 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It may have been in pieces.. but I gave you the best of me"-Jim Morrison(the doors)

Amazing. I love the description,it feels very real. Keep writing and congrats! XX


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