I will assume that every hot girl that follows me is gay unless proven otherwise.
To achieve this I must focus on:
Trusting my instincts.
Eating nutritious food.
Working on time management skills.
Counting my blessings.
Loving my body.
Taking responsibility for my actions.
Strengthening my artistic weaknesses.
He and I wrote a poem with the word magnets on teacher’s filing cabinet the day he let me wear his sweater and sleep on his shoulder during rehearsal. The intimacy of it scared me in a way I never understood. It was beautiful, just like he thought I was. Talk about Christmas miracles.
The next week the poem was gone. Someone had moved the magnets.
Two very young giraffes were enjoying a beautiful day on the savannah. They spent the day frolicking and playing games with one another. When the fun was over the two young giraffes realized that they were both very hungry. They made their way over to a cluster of trees near a cool, fresh watering…
Dear girl with the red-stained lips,
who stares at the camera with unengaged eyes
and neatly folds those rough-calloused hands
wishing you were somewhere else.
Your sport is your passion.
Idle femininity does not fulfil.
While primly posing for a team photo,
you remember the winning serve.
Sketch me a map
of my navel,
the small of my back.
have known them
It was Midsummer. A cabin-fever, makes you want to drink wine and dance by the river kind of day. An exquisite day for an adventure.
11:00 am: They lay tangled in silken sheets. The boy, ever golden and blissfully sleepy. The girl was beginning to feel the Midsummer wanderlust swooping…
his wind chapped
piloting my thumb over
the slight gap,
his teeth bared.
His tropical breath
It blooms like ragged
Since the first book, my mother and I have been arguing about whether Katniss would end up with Gale, or Peeta. She said Gale, I said Peeta.
My mother’s reasoning was that Gale and Katniss grew up as friends, and were very much alike. She said her actions with Peeta in the arena were just for…