her approach came long and lingering like a small withering breeze floating over the ocean. I looked at her in steady silence and wondered why she had come at a time like this, why her mind had yearned for the answers she knew I would have. why would i feel so apprehensive to let it go? not knowing what to say I slowly looked away as if I hadn’t seen her coming.
her approach came long and lingering like a small withering breeze floating over the ocean. I looked at her in steady silence and wondered why she had come at a time like this, why her mind had yearned for the answers she knew I would have. why would i feel so apprehensive to let it go? not knowing what to say I slowly looked away as if I hadn’t seen her coming.
Heart in throat, eyes in back of head, Clinton slammed the stick forward, tipping the nose of the plane down toward the fire-scarred terrain. “Coming up on target,” he hissed through his fractured jaw, “seeking permission to drop payload.”
He was easy to approach. He smiled, he laughed, he sparkled like a diamond on the muddy ground.
It was easy to fall in love with him. Unfortunately I was not the only one. There were many of those who wanted to be the ones he would like to talk to. There were many who loved him just as much as I did.
And there were so many broken hearts, just like mine, as the news reached us. The news about his saddening, lonely death.
How do you approach a subject like that?
Really, it was almost funny.. In a morbid, self-loathing kind of way. It was like a festering wound, one that won’t close and you’re not sure how to stitch it up yourself, but you know that if you could, if you would just take that last step… You’d be on your way towards healing.
But some things are better left unsaid.
I approached him from behind. “Are you okay?” I asked, startling him as he realized i was talking to him. “Just….just go away,” he responded in a scared voice. Not wanting to bother him, i started to walk away. He grabbed my backpack, forcing me to a halt. “Wait. She’s under the bench,” he exclaimed. “I coudn’t control myself. She’s dead. In the bag. Under the bench.” He took one last look at me and started to run. Revolsion set in almost as soon as he had said it. “She’s dead,” was repeating in my mind. My step sister is dead, and my brother is running.
The new approach to life…approach everything fresh and new. Your approach to my house is covered in brambles. I approach tomorrow with apprehension. The word approach contains roach, so how do we approach the roach? With opprobrium. That’s the approach.
The track was muddy. My ankles would bend this way and that as I slipped over rocks and slid down small gullies in the path. Finally, with a thunk! I dropped the mat on the floor and began to climb…
He shook his head. “Impossible. It will approach us at the same rate no matter where we go. We are not in a spatial plane. There is no ‘here’ or ‘there’. It will catch up with us regardless of where we are, as long as we remain here.”
this approach seems wrong
on paper, it is right
written a while past
it was meant to be right
but now it is all moving
and the approach is not here
not right
my head still hurts
and this approach will make it stop
for now
like a high dose of tylenol
but when i wake up again
stuck in time
forever aching
just another tylenol to shut it away
it will not be long until i hurt again
with this approach
hide the pain, no
I can’t approach him, I~ refuse. I really should, but I can’t face him in that way. I’ll go talk to him, sure. I be normal. But I will not approach him.
I can’t stand confrontation, even if I’m not physically there. It’s never going to end well, whatever I say…
She’s hesitant and so is he, so they stand quite a distance away from each other for much too long. Then she approaches, cautiously and quietly. She opens her mouth but he speaks first: I’m sorry.
Approach depravity as a curiosity. It is the only way. We cannot deny its existence and we should not glorify it. Mass murder, gun lust, xenophobia, greed in a world with starvation… Do not ignore it.
I approached the person in front of me. Dark hair, eyes and the lean build of him covered in a floorlength (spelled it wrong) coat. I smiled at the sight of him. Extremely hurtful smile, the kind you never want to even see on a persons face. Holding back the flowing emotions I felt, I only walked up to him to see once again his scarred face.
“And again we meet?” He asked the question more like a statement.
“Yes.” I responded. I knew what was next.
“I have bad news.”
I looked into his charcoal eyes. Not again, no more death, no more pain, misery? It’s all back.
“Yes.” He looked back into my green eyes. “They came back.”
I can’t figure out how to approach this prompt. Guess I’ll hit this approach shot from 80 yards out first. Or maybe after the pilot of the plane finishes his approach, then I’ll worry about it.
I approached the car window. “sixty bucks” he said. This was a little pricy, I guessed. I had never done this before and my guess was as good as anyone else’s. I wonder if this will ever stop?
“Approach with caution. The bear doesn’t know if you are friend or foe. And there are few things in this world more dangerous than a bear.” That’s what the animal trainer said before getting into Wally’s cage and giving him a big smooch on his big bear lips. It was quite a show. I wondered if that’s what the trainer did to get chicks. Then I wondered what chick would want to smooch with him after he had just smooched a bear. I figured there were more than a few out there who would like to kiss a bear. At least by proxy.
I approached the boy, carefully keeping my distance so I didn’t frighten him. I knew that I would not frighten him- the more correct description would be that I would seduce and obsess him- but I didn’t ever want to admit that I had this awful, uncanny power over mortals.
How do you approach the word? With a thought, with a meaning, with an idea? No matter how stealthily I move, the meaning overtakes me and I am overwhelmed.
The scariest word in the english language. Say it aloud, “approach” it makes the hair on the back of our collective necks stand up. We fear approaching our dreams. We fear slowly approaching death. We fear zombies approaching us from behind in dark alleyways. However, approach is only a word, the quicker we approach our destiny the more satisfied we will be in life.
I don’t like approaching people first. I’m very shy and reserved, which gets me in trouble a lot. But once you meet me and the conversation gets going, I’m good to go!
I’d like to take a different approach
to this problem we call life.
It’s a terrible puzzle we have to solve,
before we say goodnight.
We laugh, we love, we cry every day,
with no explanation as to why.
But I’ll tell you this, with all of my heart,
I truly can’t wait to die.
I began my approach. I could see nothing else as I narrowed my vision and focused on one person only. I was distracted by nothing and by no one else. I walked briskly up to the place where he stood by the rich, dark and curving walnut frame of the bar and fixed my eyes directly upon his. “Hello,” I said. “My name is Sadie. I already know yours.”
The cat walks up to the building slowly, just like everyone else. Even the animals approach with caution. It’s no surprise. They can probably smell better than us the dangers of the building. Most people wouldn’t go near it at all, if it wasn’t also the library.
It’s hard for me to approach anyone, to open up and reveal who I am. When I find out that he likes me, it suddenly seems impossible to approach him. When he tries to talk to me in class, I’m harsher, colder, quieter than usual. He looks at me, puzzled, as I ignore his questions. My fear grips me around the throat. I could reveal myself to this boy, I think, and possibly find the happiness I’ve been looking for. Or, I remind myself, he could break my heart. Break my spirit. Break me. That seems more likely, I decide, but I force myself to speak to him anyways, I force myself to sit there and smile as he approaches me, and weeks later I thank myself for having the courage to open up.
He approached me slowly, as if he were intimidated by my stance. My heart beat sped more rapid with every step he took closer. His eyes had a sparkle, and I could feel the rush of rose flood into my cheeks.
He approached her with trepidation. Would she want him after all these years? Had he made a mistake contacting her? The flowers in his hand shook. Then she turned and smiled. The smile reached all the way to his heart.
Each time you approach me, or even come near to me, I become terrified that you will say it. That you will “tell” me even though I already know. I’ve known for a while but you have no idea. But part of me is so scared that you will come out and say it and I will be standing there with nothing to say back to you.
Approaching the speed of light, he slid around the corner and continued not to run not to walk (and there was no sauntering, of that he was fairly certain) no this pace was reserved for those who know they cannot get free of their pursuer, and cannot outrun themselves, but they damn well try.
as i approached, i turned my head away and wrinkled my nose
this cigarette smoker was going to ruin my day, blowing it up my nose, practically,
or so it seems
everything seems so personal these days.
i cross the street and he calls after me
“ma’am!”
“ma’am!”
i turn
you dropped your watch.
i approach the crosswalk again.
i feel like a jerk.
Probably wasn’t the best idea to approach him drunk. Of course, you can’t slur or slut through a QWERTY keyboard, but your fingers miss the buttons and you seem just as worthless as you would if you were slobbering over the person in public.
i approach issues
maturely
orally
no need to be physical
no need to get angry
approach matters with a balanced mind
open
Approach
you must approach your issues
but it’s not always very fun
It took me forever to approach you. Long conversations with friends. Preparation for days, no weeks. What to say, what to write, where to run into you. It worked out. It just didn’t last. There was more before the approach than after.
he approached the shores with the hopes of starting a new life
her approach came long and lingering like a small withering breeze floating over the ocean. I looked at her in steady silence and wondered why she had come at a time like this, why her mind had yearned for the answers she knew I would have. why would i feel so apprehensive to let it go? not knowing what to say I slowly looked away as if I hadn’t seen her coming.
her approach came long and lingering like a small withering breeze floating over the ocean. I looked at her in steady silence and wondered why she had come at a time like this, why her mind had yearned for the answers she knew I would have. why would i feel so apprehensive to let it go? not knowing what to say I slowly looked away as if I hadn’t seen her coming.
Heart in throat, eyes in back of head, Clinton slammed the stick forward, tipping the nose of the plane down toward the fire-scarred terrain. “Coming up on target,” he hissed through his fractured jaw, “seeking permission to drop payload.”
He was easy to approach. He smiled, he laughed, he sparkled like a diamond on the muddy ground.
It was easy to fall in love with him. Unfortunately I was not the only one. There were many of those who wanted to be the ones he would like to talk to. There were many who loved him just as much as I did.
And there were so many broken hearts, just like mine, as the news reached us. The news about his saddening, lonely death.
How do you approach a subject like that?
Really, it was almost funny.. In a morbid, self-loathing kind of way. It was like a festering wound, one that won’t close and you’re not sure how to stitch it up yourself, but you know that if you could, if you would just take that last step… You’d be on your way towards healing.
But some things are better left unsaid.
I approached him from behind. “Are you okay?” I asked, startling him as he realized i was talking to him. “Just….just go away,” he responded in a scared voice. Not wanting to bother him, i started to walk away. He grabbed my backpack, forcing me to a halt. “Wait. She’s under the bench,” he exclaimed. “I coudn’t control myself. She’s dead. In the bag. Under the bench.” He took one last look at me and started to run. Revolsion set in almost as soon as he had said it. “She’s dead,” was repeating in my mind. My step sister is dead, and my brother is running.
APPROACH:our problem isn’t that our souls are dispersed into minute amounts,but that we are not thinking small enough.
The new approach to life…approach everything fresh and new. Your approach to my house is covered in brambles. I approach tomorrow with apprehension. The word approach contains roach, so how do we approach the roach? With opprobrium. That’s the approach.
The track was muddy. My ankles would bend this way and that as I slipped over rocks and slid down small gullies in the path. Finally, with a thunk! I dropped the mat on the floor and began to climb…
Luke! You’ve turned off your targeting computer. What’s wrong?
Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I’m alright.
I have you now – WHAT!?!
WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!
Come on kid. Let’s blow this thing and go home!
“Can we outrun it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Impossible. It will approach us at the same rate no matter where we go. We are not in a spatial plane. There is no ‘here’ or ‘there’. It will catch up with us regardless of where we are, as long as we remain here.”
this approach seems wrong
on paper, it is right
written a while past
it was meant to be right
but now it is all moving
and the approach is not here
not right
my head still hurts
and this approach will make it stop
for now
like a high dose of tylenol
but when i wake up again
stuck in time
forever aching
just another tylenol to shut it away
it will not be long until i hurt again
with this approach
hide the pain, no
the plain approached the runway for the touchdown that wen smoothly
many people–men of woman—are very shy to approach others and talk
scarey, nervous, love, cute guy, smiles, butterflies, happiness, anticipation, quest, choice, mystery, c
I can’t approach him, I~ refuse. I really should, but I can’t face him in that way. I’ll go talk to him, sure. I be normal. But I will not approach him.
I can’t stand confrontation, even if I’m not physically there. It’s never going to end well, whatever I say…
She’s hesitant and so is he, so they stand quite a distance away from each other for much too long. Then she approaches, cautiously and quietly. She opens her mouth but he speaks first: I’m sorry.
Approach depravity as a curiosity. It is the only way. We cannot deny its existence and we should not glorify it. Mass murder, gun lust, xenophobia, greed in a world with starvation… Do not ignore it.
I approached the person in front of me. Dark hair, eyes and the lean build of him covered in a floorlength (spelled it wrong) coat. I smiled at the sight of him. Extremely hurtful smile, the kind you never want to even see on a persons face. Holding back the flowing emotions I felt, I only walked up to him to see once again his scarred face.
“And again we meet?” He asked the question more like a statement.
“Yes.” I responded. I knew what was next.
“I have bad news.”
I looked into his charcoal eyes. Not again, no more death, no more pain, misery? It’s all back.
“Yes.” He looked back into my green eyes. “They came back.”
I can’t figure out how to approach this prompt. Guess I’ll hit this approach shot from 80 yards out first. Or maybe after the pilot of the plane finishes his approach, then I’ll worry about it.
I approached the car window. “sixty bucks” he said. This was a little pricy, I guessed. I had never done this before and my guess was as good as anyone else’s. I wonder if this will ever stop?
“Approach with caution. The bear doesn’t know if you are friend or foe. And there are few things in this world more dangerous than a bear.” That’s what the animal trainer said before getting into Wally’s cage and giving him a big smooch on his big bear lips. It was quite a show. I wondered if that’s what the trainer did to get chicks. Then I wondered what chick would want to smooch with him after he had just smooched a bear. I figured there were more than a few out there who would like to kiss a bear. At least by proxy.
I approached the boy, carefully keeping my distance so I didn’t frighten him. I knew that I would not frighten him- the more correct description would be that I would seduce and obsess him- but I didn’t ever want to admit that I had this awful, uncanny power over mortals.
How do you approach the word? With a thought, with a meaning, with an idea? No matter how stealthily I move, the meaning overtakes me and I am overwhelmed.
The scariest word in the english language. Say it aloud, “approach” it makes the hair on the back of our collective necks stand up. We fear approaching our dreams. We fear slowly approaching death. We fear zombies approaching us from behind in dark alleyways. However, approach is only a word, the quicker we approach our destiny the more satisfied we will be in life.
an Iphone with a roach problem
I don’t like approaching people first. I’m very shy and reserved, which gets me in trouble a lot. But once you meet me and the conversation gets going, I’m good to go!
I’d like to take a different approach
to this problem we call life.
It’s a terrible puzzle we have to solve,
before we say goodnight.
We laugh, we love, we cry every day,
with no explanation as to why.
But I’ll tell you this, with all of my heart,
I truly can’t wait to die.
I began my approach. I could see nothing else as I narrowed my vision and focused on one person only. I was distracted by nothing and by no one else. I walked briskly up to the place where he stood by the rich, dark and curving walnut frame of the bar and fixed my eyes directly upon his. “Hello,” I said. “My name is Sadie. I already know yours.”
The cat walks up to the building slowly, just like everyone else. Even the animals approach with caution. It’s no surprise. They can probably smell better than us the dangers of the building. Most people wouldn’t go near it at all, if it wasn’t also the library.
It’s hard for me to approach anyone, to open up and reveal who I am. When I find out that he likes me, it suddenly seems impossible to approach him. When he tries to talk to me in class, I’m harsher, colder, quieter than usual. He looks at me, puzzled, as I ignore his questions. My fear grips me around the throat. I could reveal myself to this boy, I think, and possibly find the happiness I’ve been looking for. Or, I remind myself, he could break my heart. Break my spirit. Break me. That seems more likely, I decide, but I force myself to speak to him anyways, I force myself to sit there and smile as he approaches me, and weeks later I thank myself for having the courage to open up.
He approached me slowly, as if he were intimidated by my stance. My heart beat sped more rapid with every step he took closer. His eyes had a sparkle, and I could feel the rush of rose flood into my cheeks.
i want be the less interested
in your messing,
but i approach
not knowing my own notes.
off key and a little staccato
i play into whatever you are.
He approached her with trepidation. Would she want him after all these years? Had he made a mistake contacting her? The flowers in his hand shook. Then she turned and smiled. The smile reached all the way to his heart.
Each time you approach me, or even come near to me, I become terrified that you will say it. That you will “tell” me even though I already know. I’ve known for a while but you have no idea. But part of me is so scared that you will come out and say it and I will be standing there with nothing to say back to you.
Approaching the speed of light, he slid around the corner and continued not to run not to walk (and there was no sauntering, of that he was fairly certain) no this pace was reserved for those who know they cannot get free of their pursuer, and cannot outrun themselves, but they damn well try.
as i approached, i turned my head away and wrinkled my nose
this cigarette smoker was going to ruin my day, blowing it up my nose, practically,
or so it seems
everything seems so personal these days.
i cross the street and he calls after me
“ma’am!”
“ma’am!”
i turn
you dropped your watch.
i approach the crosswalk again.
i feel like a jerk.
Probably wasn’t the best idea to approach him drunk. Of course, you can’t slur or slut through a QWERTY keyboard, but your fingers miss the buttons and you seem just as worthless as you would if you were slobbering over the person in public.
i approach issues
maturely
orally
no need to be physical
no need to get angry
approach matters with a balanced mind
open
Approach
you must approach your issues
but it’s not always very fun
It took me forever to approach you. Long conversations with friends. Preparation for days, no weeks. What to say, what to write, where to run into you. It worked out. It just didn’t last. There was more before the approach than after.