The Man in the Coffee ShopThe man who works at the coffee shop looks like you. I noticed this some time ago and have since frequented the place. He recognizes me now. He smiles at me when I come in. His smile even looks like yours. He doesn't say hey though- you always said hey.

I still work at the library even though you're not there.
Sometimes I look over to your desk and expect to see you typing at your computer, but someone else is there now. It's not you.

Sometimes someone will come in who looks like you. Maybe he will have the same hair, same stature, same profile, same laugh, same voice. It's never been you.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy. I pull at my hai

Every Dog Has Its DayThere once was a dog who wandered the streets. He was a kindly dog who did not have a home.

Sometimes, he would see families at the park playing with their dogs. How he wished he were one of those dogs. After a time, he decided that he would try to befriend one of the children that played in the park. He was overcome with excitement and haphazardly ran toward a child while yelling "Hello!" over and over again. He had almost reached the child when, suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side. A man had kicked him causing him to yelp in pain. He never went back to the

Writer's BlockThe numbers on my desk calendar started to blend together as my eyes began to close and I dozed off. I regained consciousness with a start, and I involuntarily slammed my hand down to what should have been my desk.

"Wh-where am I?"

"Oh my dear! We certainly weren't expecting you today; we would have cleaned up a bit. Heh, you see, we're having a bit of a well… technical difficulty." Said a round, rather pleasant woman wearing a polka-dot dress with a nametag simply saying "Dot."

I looked around; I was in a large, disorganized office with people and papers scrambling with bundles of copy paper. I grabbed a paper from the desk beside an

Faithi.

I must have lost myself
in the distance between
what was and what is

trying to look towards the future
and towards the past
and instead just getting
confused about forwards and back

ii.

I must have taken
a wrong turn between
almost and already there

because this distance is
supposed to be short,
but I've been walking
for miles and miles

and my destination
is nowhere in sight

iii.

I must have the knack
for falling into pit holes in the
roads that separate the beginning
and the end

because I never seem to finish anything.
And maybe I'm just too good at quitting,
but I've walked this walk four times too ma

StarsIt is
amazing
how
when our eyes
align
I see you
staring,
star gazing,
beautifully unfocused.
Unseeing,
but crying,
stars
reflected in your eyes
even though
you don't feel
anymore.

Dead for YearsToday,
You told me you loved me.
I think I stopped believing you a long time ago.
Today,
I told you I loved you.
I don't think you ever started.
Today,
I lied to you.
I think it was the first time you've trusted me.
Ever.
Today,
You asked me to marry you.
I hesitated saying yes.
Last night,
You kissed my flesh and told me you wanted a child.
I wasn't ready;
I stopped taking my pills and started fucking you more.
Today,
I gave birth to your daughter.
You say she'll have a beautiful mind.
Today,
You took her to the museum.
I've never seen you so alive.
Today,
I watched your eyes light up.
She'd whispered something int

Mr. LizardI remember when I was finally able to convince my parents to buy me a pet lizard. I was so excited! It lived inside a wooden cage with a wire mesh in front. I named it Mr. Lizard. I wasn't very good at coming up with names.

Everyday, when I came back home from school, I'd go to my room and would feed Mr. Lizard a cricket. I thought that was the neatest part about having a lizard. It was fun to watch as the cricket hopped around inside the cage as Mr. Lizard eyed it. I kept thinking, "Oh man, I wonder when he'll eat the cricket!" Then "Munch!" I

The Architect's DaughterGrowing up, the drafting table was a strange contraption lording over the basement and over the crown of her then small head. As she slowly came to understand the table's function, it came to teach her that A) work and home are inseparable, and B) the world is flat. Skyscrapers collapse into thin piles of layered printer paper and torn, pen-marked transparency sheets. Mountains and forests reduce to stacked shapes. Fathers compile into cramped calendars.

Now the early lessons are thoroughly embedded. Art and architecture are inseparable in her mind. The easel is her own table, similar to a draughtsman's and yet completely different in

Daddy?"Daddy?"
I lowered my newspaper just below my eye line. There stood before me, a small, young girl. She was leaning back and forth, on tiptoes, her head was facing downward but her eyes were staring at me from the corner of her eye. Her smile stretched as she bit her lip. She was just oozing with an aura of childish curiosity. I could've just ignored her. It didn't need to happen. Not to me. But I chose to. I thought I was prepared. So I replied,
"What d'you need honey?"
Her eyes widened, her smile turned to a laugh. She tucked her hands behind her back as she said,

"Where do babies come from?"

I mentally snapped my neck and

Twist My Fire(Lights up on a modest kitchen. MAN and WOMAN are standing, facing each other.)MAN
Twist your fire.

WOMAN
Excuse me?

MAN
"Twist your fire." It's what all the kids are saying these days.

WOMAN
Are they, really?

MAN
Yes, or so I've heard... somewhere. Yes, definitely.

WOMAN
So, what does it mean to "twist your fire?"

MAN
Uh, I don't know, exactly.

WOMAN
You don't know, and yet you still are saying it. That's brilliant.

MAN
I know, isn't it?

WOMAN
Are you sure the kids are all saying this?

MAN
You think I'd... make something like "twist your fire" up? Why? Why? To make myself feel hip and hep and cool and with it and rad and wicked and

I Call Him CompulsionThree. Four. Five. I like five; it feels complete. Okay, one more time. Six…

Seven. Done.

"How long does it take to get a glass of water?" my husband calls from the living room.

"Sorry, I'm coming." I resist the urge to rinse the glass a few more times. Cleanliness is not a factor—it's the numbers. The completion. The habit. I take a sip of my water and force myself to stop asking if I should just run the water one more time.

I join Sam in the living room and sit in my usual spot: the center recliner. He always lies on the couch to watch TV. It works.

He hits the play button, and we watch ten minutes of reality before the demon

Coffee-Stained Letter Dear Stranger,

You don't know me. And I don't know you. Maybe it's better that way. But then again, maybe we would be happier if we did know each other.

Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, with the sunlight streaming in the window, writing this letter for you. Hopefully I'll finish it by tonight, so that tomorrow I can take it to the coffee shop on the corner and drop it on the floor, or in your lap, or maybe in the lap of the person next to you so they can give it to you...because they don't seem like the type to read it, so they'll obviously just pass it on.

I like music - except terrible rap. And I love the written word more than most,

Star Searching.I looked through the sun and moon to find stars that were long dead. It seems a strange idea, but somewhere far from here our past can still be seen through the lenses of a telescope, and death, for some of us even life, is still far away. I count the gray hairs on my scalp like the shells I counted in my younger years after a long day on the beach collecting. They paid me well.

I collected for years, never went to school so I couldn't do much else. People took a liking to me though, I was quick with words and I had a great smile; according to those same people. A smile could get you a long way, if you knew how to use it. That smile is how I

Hindsight BiasI.

Being old enough now to look back at my teenage years with more smiles than shudders, I have undertaken the daunting task of trying to understand my adolescent self, with the aid of hindsight and much re-reading of my angsty diaries. I have come to realise that this otherwise conglomerated mass of time was divided up, and given meaning to, by the numerous boys I was involved with – whether in reality, or the many utterly unrealistic infatuations that occupied far too many waking hours.

As a kid, I was a total tomboy and much preferred to wear over-sized jeans and t-shirts than dresses. I would spend hours outdoors, often

How to Miss the CountryThe Westcountry settled around Ig's shoulders as the train pulled in. After steely, bustling London, it was a relief to see the familiar hills bulge up through the rain. He gripped the window, as if it might pucker.

"Welcome home!" was the first thing Mick shouted at the station, over the steam and the crowd and the downpour. Ig blinked, and was hugged. Mick never hugged him.

He pulled away, feeling sharp with strangeness. "How a – how's Mum?"

Mick shrugged. "Okay – you know – as well as you'd expect." He sounded tired, but Ig was too busy breathing in the rain to care. He let himself be steered towards the car and listened

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One Love

by ~artybluegirl, Jun 7, 2011, 6:58:46 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

I'm not enough.

I'm not super-human, not a hero either. I'm just me. Me. And what I am might not be what you need.

But I'll try.

I can promise you as much. I can try to be what you need and I can do it for the rest of my life. If I could just nearly be what you need, what he was, it'll be enough. It has to be enough because I'm not the perfect piece, I'm misshaped and confused and so madly in love with you.

Yet I'm not him.
I'll never be.

You loved him. And part of you, the one he took, always will. I can only hope the small part left can learn not to long after the one missing. I can only hope it'll learn to move on and someday - perhaps who knows? – will notice me.

Sometimes I just… I… I just want to be everything to you.
Stupid huh?

People don't call me a fool for no reason, you know? Though I prefer to think of myself as an idealist and show them wrong. I know... I know they're wrong. I can be everything to somebody else; I can fulfil my lover's every need and protect them.
Maybe they just think of me as a fool because of you.

The broken-hearted girl.

The girl that missed love before she could understand it; but that's exactly what they don't understand about you, how can someone miss love? Well… I don't know either. All I know is with time I fell in love with you and you're in love with what you miss and it just…

It sucks, you know?

To want to be the one who protects you and is everything to you, the one who sees you happy… and not being able to do it. It really sucks. Even worse - I can't explain it without tripping on clichés and all the movie-like cheesiness – while in all honesty, it's partially true.

Ask how many times I tried letting go of you.
Two hundred and three times.

Yeah, I'm counting them. By now you'd think I'd have some practice and could break free of this addiction, if you did think that you're wrong. Time and practice don't make it easier if not, they just make it worst. It's as if you've got some long distance remote control over me and it's annoying.

I hate that the first person I run to show my latest conquest is you.
I hate that the first person I tell about my problems is you.
I love that you praise me.
I love when you comfort me.

I'm hopeless, really. I love you, broken-hearted girl. You make it all more difficult to stop doing it when you're so nice to me, you keep me by your side and you're completely oblivious of what you're doing. You drive me crazy!

I'm sorry.
I love you.

337

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One Loveby ~artybluegirl

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487 words,
The broken-hearted girl.

I'd like to thankeveryone who has faved or commented on this work, not to mention the amazing people behind DLD for featuring me.

Thank you so much.

_{This monstrousity is something my newly discovered muse, Gabriel, wrote a while back and which I had ignored until now.

I've been debating either to hide this forever or to submit it. I mean, it sounds like a real person and a real problem, not at all made up.}

Gender of the Narrator's voice?

_{This was written from a guy's pov, though now I'm worried it may not seem so. Whenever I read this I hear a male voice in my head...}

...as a visual piece?

_{How would you change the way the sentenes were displayed? Personally, I'm not content with it. Not a 100%, at least. Although I can't put my finger on how would I change it if I could.}

Anyways,
enjoy

Recently I've found a piece that strikes as true; life is to be lived while we can, in the here and now. So... I left a critique, hopefully it has been of some help for the author.

One Chance
By ~Rieal-Dragonsbane

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Submitted on: June 7, 2011
File Size: 2.7 KB
Submitted with: Sta.sh

Views: 337
Favourites: 13 (who?)
Comments: 12
Downloads: 6

!LifeWithSubtitles Sep 14, 2011 Student Writer

Vey nice

I liked the concept and the emotion behind this. xx

~artybluegirl Sep 14, 2011 Student General Artist

Thank you so much

=DailyLitDeviations Sep 14, 2011

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DLD (Daily Literature Deviations) in a news article that can be found here [link]
Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article.

Keep writing and keep creating.

~artybluegirl Sep 14, 2011 Student General Artist

:giggles:

Thank you,

it's beyond words.

=DailyLitDeviations Sep 17, 2011

You're welcome!

~FragmenteDreams Jun 24, 2011 Student Writer

Heyo. Just answering your questions, and stuff.

I definitely saw the narrator as a guy. A desperate, attention-seeking, somewhat pathetic male. To me he sounded trapped, trapped by his desire for the "broken-hearted girl", and it didn't sound like he liked it.

Although I've never been much for visuals, I think one thing I would've done would've been to put an extra line or two between the sentences "Yet, I'm not him" and "I'll never be". That would seem to suggest a more, uh, final outlook on the statement just made, as though the narrator is taking the time to admit something he knows is true but doesn't like. I'd also probably do the same for the other areas where you have two short sentences put in two separate lines next to each other, with the exception of the last two lines, since I think those are more powerful read immediately after each other.

My general thoughts on this piece was that, indeed, parts of it were cheesy, but the fact that the narrator acknowledges that fact makes it powerful. Somehow, it strikes a chord in me that the narrator realizes that his attempts to express his love are cliche and overused, and yet he presses on despite that realization, because that's just how powerful his love truly is. I'm not really a fan of the third-to-last sentence ("You drive me crazy!), because I really don't think you need the italics to drive home your point, since I think that's a little too much emphasis on a single word and makes the narrator come off as a little too excited compared to the rest of the piece, which struck me as more resigned and reflective. Overall, I liked it, but I'd recommend going through the piece again and picking out typos, since there were a few I spotted in there. Nice job overall.

~artybluegirl Jun 29, 2011 Student General Artist

Thank you!
It's not usual to get such a detailed review, really.

I didn't expect it to be perfect and honestly never even attempted to edit it due to my fear of it. The italics in 'crazy' were a bit like overreacting, huh? Ouch. He isn't excited, at all I might add.

About the short sentences... that'll be tough. I mean, feeling, right? They're sometimes short and hard to explain but I'll see what I can do about it although what was written is pretty much what he has to say.

And yes, you nailed the meaning of this piece. His own desperate desire for someone he might never have. No wonder I wanted to hide this, he does come across as a bit pitiful, doesn't he?

Thanks for the review!

~FragmenteDreams Jun 30, 2011 Student Writer

You're welcome.

~lightninquick Jun 7, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

I'm glad you shared this... Thank you! I definitely sounds like a real person who's fallen in love with someone they can't have. Well done!

~artybluegirl Jun 10, 2011 Student General Artist

Thanks!
Now I'm somewhat glad that my certainty of its truthness overcame my embarassment. (:

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