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lili

United States

hi, my name is lili! pls like and follow :)
instagram is @lili_jaquet; wattpad is @worthkeeping

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lili (United States) published:

in march

PROMPT: “In January”

the sawdust taste behind my teeth
is brimming on my lips,
i am waiting to kiss summer.
the freckles i held onto violently
melt away below the doming clouds
all of me is anxious
for sun, and love again.
 

Seeking Peer Reviews

30 days ago

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1

lili (United States) published:

wildfire

PROMPT: WILD

the metronomic clash
of cloud upon cloud, every 10 seconds
is measured in miles I’ve yet to walk on
an expanse of trees I’ve never seen
is playing make believe as matches
like god has taken a box and lit them,
one by one,
on the heel of his gilded boot
and set them down on the birthday cake of mortality
for all the forest to make wishes.

Seeking Peer Reviews

3 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

little israeli boy

FREE WRITING

little israeli boy
with no horn rimmed glasses
They make him look smarter
than he is allowed

his mother walks him back
from flag football practices
notices with horror
that his freckles are all gone

while she hums for lost things
and her child, stacked and padded,
he looks at girls with long, thin legs
and forgets to feel ashamed.

Seeking Peer Reviews

4 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

paradelle

FREE WRITING

I am trying my best to write a poem
I am trying my best to write a poem
but it's coming out sloppy, disdainful
but it's coming out sloppy, disdainful
I am coming out to write a poem
trying my best but it's sloppy, disdainful

looking out the window, the trees are lyrical
looking out the window, the trees are lyrical
the world is art and it's mocking me
the world is art and it's mocking me
the world is looking...

Seeking Peer Reviews

4 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

december

PROMPT: Ten Words to You

stove clicks, doesn't start
"I'm cold-"
put on a sweater.

Seeking Peer Reviews

4 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

Night After the Fire

FREE WRITING

Parlor air creeps into the open night, and the stale breath of Father's cigars dashes out all at once from the perpetually closed box some hellish Pandora has willed free. Cracked and tinkling windows which were previously never unbolted more than the space between two teeth hang with their jaws open embarrassingly. As if to scold them, the stippled shutters creak back and forth gently in the wind; every threat in the world seems hollow. There are pieces of tire,...

Seeking Peer Reviews

4 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

My Own Perfume (Canker Sores continued)

FREE WRITING

Susan and I were sitting at dinner. I sensed the margarita was getting to her just as she opened her mouth to speak.
“My husband used to give me this one perfume, said he mixed it himself. I used to get that perfume every holiday- birthdays, Christmas, anything. I didn’t mind because it was perfect. It was exactly my type.
“And then one day, I’m at work (my retail job), and a lady comes in with the same perfume. It...

Seeking Peer Reviews

6 months ago

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1

lili (United States) published:

My Own Perfume (Canker Sores continued)

FREE WRITING

Susan and I were sitting at dinner. I sensed the margarita was getting to her just as she opened her mouth to speak.
“My husband used to give me this one perfume, said he mixed it himself. I used to get that perfume every holiday- birthdays, Christmas, anything. I didn’t mind because it was perfect. It was exactly my type.
“And then one day, I’m at work (my retail job), and a lady comes in with the same perfume. It...

Seeking Peer Reviews

6 months ago

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lili (United States) published:

canker sores

PROMPT: Dialogue Dexterity

I pour myself a glass of hot lemonade and sit down at the kitchen table. In crime shows, I'd know how many seconds it's been since it happened. In real life, Mom's dead, and I can't be bothered to count. 

The person across from me at the table is thinking wistfully of bourbon and better days. Her name is something like Lucy. I am making her life difficult. Lucy sighs gently, so as not to seem like she's more miserable...

6 months ago

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Prolific

lili (United States) earned a badge Prolific

6 months ago

Published Work

“In January”

in march

the sawdust taste behind my teeth
is brimming on my lips,
i am waiting to kiss summer.
the freckles i held onto violently
melt away below the doming clouds
all of me is anxious
for sun, and love again.
 

WILD

wildfire

the metronomic clash
of cloud upon cloud, every 10 seconds
is measured in miles I’ve yet to walk on
an expanse of trees I’ve never seen
is playing make believe as matches
like god has taken a box and lit them,
one by one,
on the heel of his gilded boot
and set them down on the birthday cake of mortality
for all the forest to make wishes.

little israeli boy

little israeli boy
with no horn rimmed glasses
They make him look smarter
than he is allowed

his mother walks him back
from flag football practices
notices with horror
that his freckles are all gone

while she hums for lost things
and her child, stacked and padded,
he looks at girls with long, thin legs
and forgets to feel ashamed.

paradelle

I am trying my best to write a poem
I am trying my best to write a poem
but it's coming out sloppy, disdainful
but it's coming out sloppy, disdainful
I am coming out to write a poem
trying my best but it's sloppy, disdainful

looking out the window, the trees are lyrical
looking out the window, the trees are lyrical
the world is art and it's mocking me
the world is art and it's mocking me
the world is looking out the window, it's mocking me
art and the trees are lyrical

I feel the weariness of early morning
I feel the weariness of early morning
it calls out in a voice I recognize 
it calls out in a voice I recognize
I feel the voice of early morning
it calls out in a weariness I recognize 

I am looking out the window of early morning
trying my best to recognize me
the world calls out in a voice mocking, disdainful
I feel it and its weariness
the trees are...

Ten Words to You

december

stove clicks, doesn't start
"I'm cold-"
put on a sweater.

Night After the Fire

Parlor air creeps into the open night, and the stale breath of Father's cigars dashes out all at once from the perpetually closed box some hellish Pandora has willed free. Cracked and tinkling windows which were previously never unbolted more than the space between two teeth hang with their jaws open embarrassingly. As if to scold them, the stippled shutters creak back and forth gently in the wind; every threat in the world seems hollow. There are pieces of tire, now just rubber hunks of what used to be a tricycle, and strewn among them are chopped lengths of string and Mother’s stitching. The frame of the toy itself has quickly forgotten its purpose, and Billy's handles are soon the thrones of champion moss. The laundry still on the line twists in the country breeze. The flowerpots have gone black on one side, and on the other they are cheerfully terra-cotta. They remain half in complete ignorance of the horrors...

My Own Perfume (Canker Sores continued)

Susan and I were sitting at dinner. I sensed the margarita was getting to her just as she opened her mouth to speak.
“My husband used to give me this one perfume, said he mixed it himself. I used to get that perfume every holiday- birthdays, Christmas, anything. I didn’t mind because it was perfect. It was exactly my type.
“And then one day, I’m at work (my retail job), and a lady comes in with the same perfume. It was pretty distinct, but I waited around for a while to be sure. And after no more than 10 minutes, I was positive. Of course I was mad, who wouldn't be? I confronted him that night.
“He tells me, as I’m ranting and fuming, that he mixed it himself. I didn’t believe him, because how could that other girl have it if he made it himself? And then all of a sudden I calmed down.
“Why was I making such...

My Own Perfume (Canker Sores continued)

Susan and I were sitting at dinner. I sensed the margarita was getting to her just as she opened her mouth to speak.
“My husband used to give me this one perfume, said he mixed it himself. I used to get that perfume every holiday- birthdays, Christmas, anything. I didn’t mind because it was perfect. It was exactly my type.
“And then one day, I’m at work (my retail job), and a lady comes in with the same perfume. It was pretty distinct, but I waited around for a while to be sure. And after no more than 10 minutes, I was positive. Of course I was mad, who wouldn't be? I confronted him that night.
“He tells me, as I’m ranting and fuming, that he mixed it himself. I didn’t believe him, because how could that other girl have it if he made it himself? And then all of a sudden I calmed down.
“Why was I making such...

Dialogue Dexterity

canker sores

I pour myself a glass of hot lemonade and sit down at the kitchen table. In crime shows, I'd know how many seconds it's been since it happened. In real life, Mom's dead, and I can't be bothered to count. 

The person across from me at the table is thinking wistfully of bourbon and better days. Her name is something like Lucy. I am making her life difficult. Lucy sighs gently, so as not to seem like she's more miserable than me while still making it clear that she is, and asks "Howya doing sweetie?" I spend too long trying to think of a biting yet honest response so she kind of answers for me. "It's hard to put a name on, huh." She is nodding in a sad way, if that's even possible. It reminds me of Mom and I suddenly need a hug. 
"You know, Susan," that's her name; "you really don't have to do this." I look...

Dialogue Dexterity

canker sores

I pour myself a glass of hot lemonade and sit down at the kitchen table. In crime shows, I'd know how many seconds it's been since it happened. In real life, Mom's dead, and I can't be bothered to count. 

The person across from me at the table is thinking wistfully of bourbon and better days. Her name is something like Lucy. I am making her life difficult. Lucy sighs gently, so as not to seem like she's more miserable than me while still making it clear that she is, and asks "Howya doing sweetie?" I spend too long trying to think of a biting yet honest response so she kind of answers for me. "It's hard to put a name on, huh." She is nodding in a sad way, if that's even possible. It reminds me of Mom and I suddenly need a hug. 
"You know, Susan," that's her name; "you really don't have to do this." I look...

An Honest Soul

I have to sit in silence with this thought
Cannot turn on the music or even the heater to distract myself
To give the tragedy an orchestra
“I cheated on you,” I tell her
Like it is something to be proud of
Like those are words I should ever speak without the turning of my gut sounding over them
“I cheated on you,” and even that feels easy and cheap
“I didn’t mean to do it” is the next thing I think to say
I do not say it
If I am not a faithful soul I will still be an honest one
I deserve this wrath of truth and confidence
I deserve what she will say, the face she will make, the way her eyes will curl and squint as she tries to understand
The way she will pull back from me
When the words make their connections
She will pull back from me like I am the stove...

der lange abend

there were three men sitting together at little desks with stamps
and there were people in a long, long line, 
long as the evening
they all were tired. 

as the night dragged on, the men tried to hold conversations
when papers got stuck in pockets, 
or rattling hands refused to check them,
they would ask little things to pass the time. 

one girl stepped up to the front of the line in the middle
as rubber shoes clacked on pavement stones
grateful it was not mud,
and Heinrich looked up into green eyes. 

he noticed then they were flecked with brown, 
like his sister Elfriede’s, 
so he asked her for her name
because he could not go on not knowing.

Elke handed him her papers and laughed
the most shoe polish laugh he had ever heard
“Elke” he breathed to himself
the world seemed a bit more shiny.

so overcome with twinkling feelings one simply did not feel
sitting at...

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

a letter found on the bridge by the lake, written in nice pink cursive

I took her to the lake and we smeared mud on our faces. It barely showed on her, and when she laughed, the water rippled.
We drove home two hours later than we promised; “it took so long to wash off!” We told them.
I didn’t say I kissed the river off her lips.
I sat on the floor of my bathroom on a pink carpet and picked the dirt from under my fingernails. The phone rang in the hall and went straight to voicemail; she sounded like her lips were chapped. All I could taste was the lake.

 

Songwriting Competition 2017

soccer girlfriend

I've never written a song before
okay, that's kind of a lie
I wrote one once in 7th grade
and i wrote it for a guy

you might say it counts
and that may very well be
but i meant the song for the guy's girlfriend
I just changed all the pronouns to he

i walked up to his girlfriend
I admit, I was kinda scared
she was the prettiest thing i had ever seen 
brown eyes and curly haired

the boy looked at me like he didn't
know his girlfriend was standing right there
she asked me if I would play soccer
I knew the game wouldn't be fair

so I went and i played some soccer
and i guess you could say that i won
actually I got slide tackled
but she said I was her number one.



 

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

a letter found on the bridge by the lake, written in nice pink cursive

I took her to the lake and we smeared mud on our faces. It barely showed on her, and when she laughed, the water rippled.
We drove home two hours later than we promised; “it took so long to wash off!” Her parents bought it, so I didn’t tell them I kissed the river off her lips.
I sat on the floor of my bathroom on a pink carpet and picked the dirt from under my fingernails. The phone rang in the hall and went straight to voicemail.
“Hey… its me. Dad found out, I think. Please.. Don’t call.”
 

if i could speak

silver smart, with bangles
comes walking into the room
and instantly the chairs stop squeaking.

curly, with shingle eyes
sweeps the room with a look
and the lamps used to be dimmer.

sweettart, with cardboard hands
breaks the walls apart 
and I hear her scream so deeply.

lashes, with teary dew, I grasp your cold wrists,
hold your copper cheek to mine
I reach out for your hurt and your exacting-

I leave the room beside you.

harvest

on the first four Sundays of June and July my parents would wake my sister and my brother and I up at five o clock. they would pile us into the old truck and drive down the long dirt road until we got to the orchard, just as the sun was rising over the hills across the valley. then our parents would get out, as if they couldn’t wait to get started, and ask my brother to pass them the baskets in the backseat because he was the youngest and my sister and I wouldn’t do it. sometimes he would get out with them but my sister and I never did. sometimes they would call us divas and laugh as we tried to fall back asleep for just a few more hours, but then they would leave, knowing we would get up eventually.
 
we had a sort of routine, and we worked perfectly all together, but each cog in...

Mystery Writing Competition 2017

Boy Across the Street

A girl sits at a desk in a bedroom. She is about fourteen, maybe fifteen; on her desk sprawl polaroid pictures of friends, various pens and pencils, scissors, a reading light, and a writing journal. The girl is writing in the journal with her favorite pen, the pink one with the feather. Every now and then she glances up at the small analog clock which sits on the window sill before the desk- it reads 3:28 am. She admires what she has written for a moment, the stands with a start and grabs a toothbrush and travel-sized toothpaste from one of her drawers and begins changing. The page is filled with a new poem:
 
hey, boy across the street
who I randomly remember at 3 am
when I am still awake, randomly remembering you;
what are you up to these days ?
I saw you like 2 years ago
skating badly in the middle of the street.
I think...

Open Prompt

the monster beanie (screenplay)

There was a girl I dreamed about-
in my sleep she tasted like 
cotton candy,
all soft and spun up;
in my dreams we rode the ferris wheel
and I would hold her at the top.
she was scared of falling
so I would hold her,
and wake up with my arms feeling empty.

There was a girl I thought about-
she was different with my eyes open.
She wasn't soft, like cotton candy,
and if she was I never knew
I couldn't hold her.
one time we went to the fair,
I bought her funnel cake and she kissed me
so light, I got scared of falling.
she laughed, 
and went to ride the rollercoaster.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

a book for lovers

A book for lovers; chapter one.

the pages are new and white
no stains, no sunspots
no signs of late night reading,
no long, long nights of rapture,
this chapter, I call him Wolf 
when I was foolish and lost in the wood

chapter two is a short time after 
this one is called Dragonfly
or sometimes Lotus
the pages become slightly yellowed from tea stains
her favorite is jasmine
i drink it anyway

three announces itself with the wheels of a suitcase
lame as they rattle over airport tile
with a self importance that lets you know 
they are home.
here is the first rip in the book, we call him Summer
and it ends without punctuation

the fourth nearly kills the author;
nearly burns the book with its first touches of flame,
and ember
Cambria, with hopes of Harvard
dreams with me, in the dark
convincing herself it is scholarly

five was supposed to be the...

Open Prompt

the monster beanie (screenplay)

Do you remember
me, standing in the bathtub,
Dad's pocket knife my toaster oven
as I burned a hole through myself

Do you remember me,
so tired and heavy,
I just wanted to fly 
I saw the ladder to the roof and I reach for it...

Do you remember coming home
To find me beneath stony waters
the pool! you thought
The one thing you hadn't locked up

When I was small
You called me guppy, I didn't want to get out
the water was warmer than the air
and I knew I'd drown sooner in the world

than in the water
 

lili's 3 Likes

What Is It This Time? by Deji

Published 8 months ago

i am a woman by Insomnia Writer

Published 9 months ago

9 Likes from Others

wildfire

Liked by 1 person

canker sores

Liked by 2 people

soccer girlfriend

Liked by 3 people

der lange abend

Liked by 1 person

Boy Across the Street

Liked by 4 people

a love note to myself

Liked by 1 person

a book for lovers

Liked by 1 person

Good neighbor

We like your photo and your biography.

Earned 9 months ago


Self editor

You've published multiple versions of the same piece

Earned about 1 year ago


Leader

You're being followed by over five other writers!

Earned 8 months ago


Publisher

You've gone live!

Earned about 1 year ago


Prolific

You really are prolific - you've published over ten pieces already.

Earned 6 months ago


Favoriter

Love your work - you've read and favorited over ten pieces published by others

Earned 8 months ago


Reviewer

You've reviewed!

Earned 10 months ago


Competitor

Thanks for entering a competition.

Earned 8 months ago


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