Addi Swaney

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If on a Winter's ...
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  (page 16 of 260)
Jan 05, 2017 12:27PM

 
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Saffron A. Kent
“Don’t you get it?” I spring up from the chair and pace. “It’s hopeless and I know it and I have no urge to date him. No urge, whatsoever. I don’t expect him to tell me he loves me because I don’t want him to and I know he won’t.”
Saffron A. Kent, The Unrequited

Mary H.K. Choi
“She wished she could explore his body and inspect him. Learn him and memorize him. That way she'd know what to miss when he was gone. Sam was heartbreakingly, hauntingly beautiful. It made her heart hurt. This couldn't end well.”
Mary H.K. Choi, Emergency Contact

Bianca Sparacino
“Sometimes, it’s the people who have been hurt the most who refuse to be hardened in this world, because they would never want to make another person feel the same way they have felt. If that isn’t something to be in awe of, I don’t know what is.”
Bianca Sparacino, The Strength In Our Scars

Trista Mateer
“I still carry you on the insides of me: cave paintings on rib-caging. If I were a peach, you would be the pit that holds me all together. When I met you, I was something small and whole; I do not know how to get back there. You have the warmest heart I have ever set up camp in.
I still carry you on the insides of me: the contents of my suitcase heart. I will lug you around until it breaks my back and then some. I feel sometimes like I have scattered my pieces everywhere, but you are the piece I do not know how to leave at the foot of a stranger’s bed or between the lines of a free-verse poem. I want you to know that loving you is freeing; that loving you is like holding my head under water and coming up new again and again.
I still carry you on the insides of me. This will not always make sense to you”
Trista Mateer, Honeybee

Amy S. Foster
“No one could deny that his face matched the sexy timbre of his voice; he was strikingly beautiful, with shaggy black hair and piercing eyes. A little bit of his mouth always remained open, even when his lips were closed in a tiny, perfect diamond shape.
He was two men: there was the one she saw in interviews- goofy, self-effacing, and gifted with the ability to make fun of himself and his profession, which put everyone at ease- and then there was the other Callum, the one on stage. Magnetic, dark, guarded, as if he was holding something back, as if it would simply be too much to give his purest and most authentic self to the audience.”
Amy S. Foster, When Autumn Leaves

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