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Literature
fragrance.
his father smelt like office papers, faint notes of cologne, and the generation gap. like loss, grief, and he never got a chance to know you.
one year later, he stands in front of the gravestone, and all he can smell is marble, dust, and the stagnant beat of his heart.
his mother smelt like the family dog, flowers, and unrequited love. like cookies, warmth, and understanding is not the same as caring.
one year later, he holds his mother's hand in his, and he smells baby shampoo, true smiles, and love-that-never-left.
his ex-girlfriend smelt like sugar, strawberries, and a silent bomb. like chaste kisses, intertwined fingers, and we just d
Literature
not charm or up...
when you left
i poured fireflies
down my throat
to burn away
your lips' echoes
but all it did was make them spin
like ballistic quarks
reversing creation
Literature
the same hand
and how I shake at the thought of
sprawling, city-sized manifestos of the self.
sketch your soul in five lines or less
and the outcome can hardly minimize the input.
but, oh, to spend a lifetime
catering to a monumental silence -
that is something worthy of praise,
and damnation,
and the slow crawling horror of a dream.
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and 
's 52 Week Six Word Story Challenge has reached week number four.This week's challenge: Write a six word story in the form of a rhyming couplet.
You can read more about the Challenge here:
[link]
What do you think the story is here?
January 2011
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Comments16
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That's... sad. But nicely done.