Submissions by thewordlucid

I am
a god-damned
idiot.

Smiles pulled by words he
says that used to be
mine, affixed black lipstick and
lightless skin. Why did I
think it so easy? It's true, men
feel, but feel the
now, not the later. Feel we can do
better, and some do, but the
rest suffer bitter, regretful
days and nights. Retributional
sleeplessness. Tired, teary
eyes.

Then, you come to me
vulnerably. Were my old
tricks not dead under a bridge some-
where, I might lash at
such an opportunity. But
instead, I will make the...

She is as much a star as
I. Forged through the
genetic dance, through
millennia, yet her eyes do not
allow her legend. Was she merely
made to suffer? By the hands and
lower focuses of men, it was an
effortless connection. One
she could take comfort in, if
comfort was a nauseating sensation
roiling in her core.

A butterfly with a torn wing
struggles, but floats past her ear. She
sees it but does not see it.