I am not graceful nor elegant. I trip on sidewalks
and try too hard to say something humorous. Often I
feel I embarrass my friends in front of new company -
you know, certain social customs just don't come to me.
I exist in the space between bare flesh and leather
when it's the middle of august and all the windows are
painted black. I feel constricted and when I speak, it feels contrived
and I apologize for that. I apologize for my awkward sadness.
I apologize for spending another night with you,
writing novellas of nonsense in my head while you wonder
where the boy you knew from high school went. He's gone,
and I'm sorry,
but I'm afraid he's not coming back.
here, My Dear, here it is
Last edited by SubwayToVenus at Jun 10, 2015,
this really picks up with the "i apologize" parallels. I am not convinced by the ending - it seems obvious and somehow i just find the idea of the high school boy being awkward in this piece. but the concept of someone loving the person you used to be is apt and i like that here, just not necessarily connected with the highschool boy. the beginning you could clean up and make more congruent with the meat of the piece but there's a lot going on here i like. potential!

nice. thanks for posting.
Best thing you have written in the past few months - your works shines brightest through its sincerity.

don't be sorry for being sad. it's a good look on you. own it.
Quote by Arthur Curry
it's official, vintage x metal is the saving grace of this board and/or the antichrist

e-married to
& alaskan_ninja