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One Day..."Mommy, can I go and play outside?" I asked.One Day... by Reika16
"Okay, but don't forget your mask!" mom called from the living room.
"But mommyyy! I HATE my 'no-icky-air' mask!"
"Seriena, you don't want to breathe the icky air, do you?"
"Well... I guess not," I admitted, then walked towards the air-filter tank.
"Have fun, and be careful not to knock your mask off!" mom warned.
"I KNOW mommy! I won't!" Sometimes, mommy can be very annoying. She always makes me do things like filtering a cup of water sixty-five times, then boiling it twice.
"But mommy! That takes forever and hurts my arms!" I'd say.
"You don't want to drink the icky water, do you?" would be her answer.
Before going outside to play, I looked at my mask lying on the table by the tank. I've always hated that mask. It wasn't very pretty at all; it was a light brown with two straps that wrapped around my head to be strapped with a small, metal buckle. Why couldn't I have a pink one instead? With glitter?
I sighed and picked up the mask anyway.
breaking a writer's heart.never break a writer’s heartbreaking a writer's heart. by colbalt-rain
because your name
will forever belong to us.
you will sign it
into every broken bit
and one day, you’ll open a book
next to the words
"let me tell you about the time
i was hurt."
never break a poet’s heart
because between the beat
of the stanzas,
you’ll hear that heartbeat,
proving you wrong
with every line.
never break a writer’s heart
because we will take the pain
and make it into something
you could never live down.
you could live with heart monitors,
that measured the damaged pulse,
doctors who told you,
but you can’t live with the bold strokes,
smooth as a flatline,
that accuse you of being
the best thing
that’s ever happened to them.
you can’t live with it;
our soulmate, now writing.
You, now replaced
by a pen.
never break anybody’s heart
because you’ll cut yourself
on the pieces of it.
and see, hearts heal.