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zodiethegreat

Indonesia

The name's Zodie! I like to write prose and essays sometimes. Do not give me any kind of criticism unless I ask. They/them.
Contact: zodiacriver@yahoo.com
Writing Instagram: planet.retro

Message from Writer

I'm not a writer. I'm just someone who happens to wield words with the needles of my thoughts. I like sentences and fancy lyrics; and even if they juggle and become either dust or bread under my hands, I am still no writer.

Murder

August 29, 2018

FREE WRITING

4
Just stop writing if you hate it that much.

I met her by the lake when she had bougainvillea in her hair that time when April showers didn’t bring May flowers. We skipped stones and she told me that she was porphyrogene.

She smiled at me. It was a sweet sunlight-infused smile. Her lips, pink as sweet pea, stretched and curved into heaven. She was someone whose smile made me gut my chest out, pull my fresh, warm beating hard from its throne and gently put it on her hand. She brushed blood away from the organ with fleeting caresses of her sin-stained fingers, then pressed it to her lips as if it were her newborn baby.

The hole on my breast stayed that way, never closing and always gaping, like a black abyss I voluntarily inflicted on myself.

(Sacrifice.)

Writing may not be for you if it hurts.

Her hand, still dirty with dust and dirt, felt like millipede on my cheek. Its tiny little feet crawling on my skin, waiting for the right time to lick me with venom. I was once drunk in love; pain was never known because my heart was already her property. She could crush it, stomp on it, as long as she doesn’t—

She leaned closer, not saying a single word. Her being was the epitome of beauty, so much that both Aphrodite and Psyche killed themselves in shame.

She kissed me in passion and fervor. It was pure. Her kiss was sad and lonely, but at the same time the warmth of her mouth brought some kind of comfort to my non-existent, vacuum soul. I was lost in pleasure. Feelings started to crash, coloring my sepia, innocent youth with a splash of rainbow.

Then, like the monster she was, she shoved the bluing heart back to its place.

(I’m hers.)

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  • August 29, 2018 - 12:18am (Now Viewing)

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