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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The Argument It was my mother who would encourage me to sign up for art contests and classes, who would hang my awards proudly on the wall. My father told me to study instead, asking, “Aren’t you a little old for this?” I decided to meet in the local Starbucks. It should be ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    While most four year old girls are obsessed with princesses, I was obsessed with Jessie. Jessie was no princess, per se, but a sorceress from another realm called Magicland with red hair and blazing green eyes. She was a teenager, of course, probably about nineteen. I wanted to be just like Jessie...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I. I start out skating on the lake, my arms outstretched like they’re hugging the air, and I am soaring, soaring, soaring on the ice, my blades cutting up the ice with each stride I make. I AM INVINCIBLE until i lose control of the skates and skid across the ice until i slide to the are...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I know a girl who was dizzy from starlight; she said it burned so brightly it made her eyes start to swim and everything in front of her start to spin. I told her that I never saw something so bright and she said that's because I wasn't looking at it the right way, that maybe if I t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She walks barefoot through the forest in her white slip dress, ribbons streaming her hair, staring up at the naked branches. She doesn't know where she's going and she can barely make sense of where she's been, but she walks on because she knows she can't walk back. Wit...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I have a talent: I swallow swords, but only the swords that have first pierced through my gut and up my throat. I pull those swords out of me and open my mouth wide, forcing the sword down my esophagus, ignoring my gag reflex and then I let the sword slither down my throat until I've...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We meet in the quiet of the day, slinking off into corners of forgotten places for a rendezvous that feels so forbidden even though it shouldn't and then you press me against the wall (or I press you against the wall) and kiss me so hard and so long and so fast you rub the lipsti...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The Kiss he kissed me for the first time in the library. he sat next to me as i was typing and then we talked and the whole time i was wondering about what he thought of my outfit and the lipstick i was wearing and the way i was talking, but i just kept talking and trying to act cool...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    1. Before Maybe when I took the rattlesnake juice that was supposed to make me giggle I f l e w, like I was on an airplane or maybe a jet, looking down at a greener grass and a bluer sky and a brighter sun and I thought about all the kids in the hospital beds nearby dying of cancer or...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sodium doesn't look like much; it's so soft you can slice it like butter but when you throw sodium in water, it explodes. Chlorine is kind of similar; sometimes, in small doses, it has its uses but when you spray chlorine out in an open field, it's so corrosive it will...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Writing one of those angsty poems about how the world sucks and I want to die is pretty typical for me. I suppose sunshine is not only boring but fake, too bright for my eyes when I’ve been in the dark for so long. Do you blame me for writing like that, for feeling that way? ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Has anyone told you you have a wet noodle handshake? I think it’s cute how you’re too scared to touch me even the slightest bit. I think it’s cute how you look at me, roving my body even the slightest bit. I’ve never been so admired before; it’s flattering. How you look at...
  • Poetry > Limerick
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    There was once a flock of sheep who, for their masters, would leap. One day, the master seemed deranged and took them to a place quite strange. Now their meat is sold on the cheap....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You know it’s bad when your poetry sours. When your poetry sours, becomes as brittle and bitter as your heart. singing the same sad song over and over and over again, you know you’re stuck in a deep, deep pit even if you see people on the other side of the glass up above you;...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Dysfunctional love is the dirty bathwater we bathe in to clean us, but it never works, only makes us dirtier so we can't see ourselves so we go back and forth, pressing our broken halves towards each other but it's never enough to make this who so we dirty our hearts so...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I see you with your bloodthirsty grin, looking at me like I'm a piece of juicy steak, knives in your fists. You're practically banging them against the table, silently demanding my death. I get it. This death might be inevitable but I'm not giving up without a fight so do it, ...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    Seeing houses crammed together like pancake stacks shows me my privilege....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Cracked glass- my heart snapping slowly under my fingertips, disintegrating into shards. I have so many splinters and the glass scrapes my skin- my flesh is raw and flaky, red. I had dreams. I wanted to get somewhere. Now I'm nowhere. I'm stuck here: a pit. This pit ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Mascara isn't waterproof like the box says it is. It casts shadows under your eyes as you cry, colors your tears as black as you feel and makes you look like your eyes are bleeding, erasing your nice, neat look to reveal your inner havoc under a perfect facade so you can't even kee...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    I don't understand why you harbor so much hate when you don't know me....
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    A sharp sting, a throb, a BURN, a hollow ache in your heart: it's all pain....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    What we were: We were together, I know, together and we were kissingkissingkissing and we made lovelovelove and we swore our love together, I know, and we said we made each other complete and all of that. We were together and no one even knew because we were too afraid to say a word ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    my love, we are composed of memories we house inside our souls. memories that shout whisper scream swoon. for good, for bad, they're us even if they fade away like dawns they are still there or at least still were, making love in our subconscious. the only thing i ask of you is to respe...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There's so much of my life I can remember but there's so much I can't remember like I can't remember all those childhood stories my mom tells me and I can't remember my old private school that well except the old playground with its mean eighth graders and the bat...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Age (0): I learned to feed from my mother's breast for a few weeks. Then she got tired. Age (1): I learned to interact with my sister. Mother threw her at me and I thought she was a doll (She wasn't. Whoops!). Age (1.5): I learned to walk (kind of). I needed major surgery to ...

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