That’s exactly what he did. He stole it. He stole my heart and went running. He ran as far as he could and he didn’t bother looking back or asking if I needed to leave a note for anybody behind. He jumped off waterfalls and climbed up mountains, pulling at my heart strings as if he were fine tuning a new acoustic guitar. He stole my heart before I had time to realise I hadn’t locked it away. I hadn’t protected it at all. I mean, it’s not like my heart hadn’t been stolen in the past. This time, though, this time was different. It’s as if I wanted my heart to be stolen all along. Or, at least, it’s as if I wanted my heart to be stolen by him specifically all along.
–goods, i thought would–nah–rotation should be on, going driving with the high end, dividing ends, become stems, grown into sown gems, gemini, enter wise, second try, get your bye, rollin wind, second win
She bent down and picked up the warped candle on the floor. She held it up to her face and said “fucking fantastic”. £20 for half a gram, why wouldn’t we?
in the dark of the night, he leans down and takes what is not truly his. Stolen kisses that cost more than the finest gold. She is not his, not then, not now, and not ever. but still, he steals.
My scooter was stolen when I was like twelve. Or thirteen or something but probably twelve. It had orange wheels and it was stolen when I went to a park near the beach in San Diego. I was with Elsa and our moms and it was a lot of fun until that happened. I loved that scooter. Some girl stole my color pens and denied it, too. I was fourteen. That is it for kid me.
my friend was walking through the park with her favorite book. she sat down to read it on a park bench. suddenly found that she had to use the bathroom. my friend accidentally left it on the bench.
Jacon Fields had stolen my heart. There was no other way to put it. Every-time i thought about him i found my self smiling. Every time he texted me my heart skipped a beat.
A few hours on a weekend at a house in the country with someone you haven’t seen in 30 years. You bring old love letters, your memories, about 20 extra pounds and lots more grey hair, which you’ve decided to keep because it’s just honest–he always loved that about you. But when he gets there, it’s not the same. The love letters were written by someone else. The time you’ve stolen wasn’t worth stealing after all. Heart, you’re broken.
It was gone. She had looked every where and it was nowhere to be found. Did she misplace it? Probably not. She never lost anything. Everything had its place. Who had she let in? Jamison. He was the only person who had been in her room in weeks.
I have lost all sanity. It might have been stolen by life. Who else could have taken it from me? Life just likes to be mean like that. It’s so unpredictable. One day you’re happy, the next life just pushes you straight to the ground. Like a bully. Life is a bully.
It was something simple. She never taken the piece off, until one day that it had to be. Once removed she prayed that it would be returned to it’s place. When reaching for it, thinking it would be where she had laid it, it was gone. Stolen.
He was aware of the fourth wall blocking his way, but didn’t felt the necessity to break in to the other side for his convenience. In fact, he tried to use the blockade to his advantage but fell short. He had only two narratives left to finish, but the thought of it had been stolen from his mind. He had no choice but to end the sequence, inconclusively. Just like how she cut off her connection to him, indefinitely.
Stolen, I once stole a capri sun, i was 5. It’s bad to steal. stealing is when you take something that does not belong to you, weither it’s from a store or from a friend. It’s stealing no matter what. and it’s bad woooo.
That’s exactly what he did. He stole it. He stole my heart and went running. He ran as far as he could and he didn’t bother looking back or asking if I needed to leave a note for anybody behind. He jumped off waterfalls and climbed up mountains, pulling at my heart strings as if he were fine tuning a new acoustic guitar. He stole my heart before I had time to realise I hadn’t locked it away. I hadn’t protected it at all. I mean, it’s not like my heart hadn’t been stolen in the past. This time, though, this time was different. It’s as if I wanted my heart to be stolen all along. Or, at least, it’s as if I wanted my heart to be stolen by him specifically all along.
Stolen. How many days, months, years were stolen by abuse? The days of the occurrence and the years to adjust- to digest- to let go of blame,
Have you ever stolen something without knowing it? Friends, love, money that got left behind.. I believe we sometimes do, and that it’s a human trait.
–goods, i thought would–nah–rotation should be on, going driving with the high end, dividing ends, become stems, grown into sown gems, gemini, enter wise, second try, get your bye, rollin wind, second win
I said: “So how does it feel?”
She bent down and picked up the warped candle on the floor. She held it up to her face and said “fucking fantastic”. £20 for half a gram, why wouldn’t we?
in the dark of the night, he leans down and takes what is not truly his. Stolen kisses that cost more than the finest gold. She is not his, not then, not now, and not ever. but still, he steals.
It’s happens so fast.
One minute it’s there and the next you’re scrambling. Scrambling to get it back– the one thing you gave two fucks about.
It’s your phone.
My scooter was stolen when I was like twelve. Or thirteen or something but probably twelve. It had orange wheels and it was stolen when I went to a park near the beach in San Diego. I was with Elsa and our moms and it was a lot of fun until that happened. I loved that scooter. Some girl stole my color pens and denied it, too. I was fourteen. That is it for kid me.
my friend was walking through the park with her favorite book. she sat down to read it on a park bench. suddenly found that she had to use the bathroom. my friend accidentally left it on the bench.
Jacon Fields had stolen my heart. There was no other way to put it. Every-time i thought about him i found my self smiling. Every time he texted me my heart skipped a beat.
A few hours on a weekend at a house in the country with someone you haven’t seen in 30 years. You bring old love letters, your memories, about 20 extra pounds and lots more grey hair, which you’ve decided to keep because it’s just honest–he always loved that about you. But when he gets there, it’s not the same. The love letters were written by someone else. The time you’ve stolen wasn’t worth stealing after all. Heart, you’re broken.
It was gone. She had looked every where and it was nowhere to be found. Did she misplace it? Probably not. She never lost anything. Everything had its place. Who had she let in? Jamison. He was the only person who had been in her room in weeks.
She still remembered the first and only time she stole something. It was just a toy car but to her it was the most valuable thing in the world.
Another report to revise. As per ritual, he reaches into his pen cup for his favorite pen, the one that writes in silky smooth blue ink. Where is it?
I have lost all sanity. It might have been stolen by life. Who else could have taken it from me? Life just likes to be mean like that. It’s so unpredictable. One day you’re happy, the next life just pushes you straight to the ground. Like a bully. Life is a bully.
It was something simple. She never taken the piece off, until one day that it had to be. Once removed she prayed that it would be returned to it’s place. When reaching for it, thinking it would be where she had laid it, it was gone. Stolen.
He stole my heart, as a thief would in the dark. Striking a sad pose as an angel would without a hark.
He was aware of the fourth wall blocking his way, but didn’t felt the necessity to break in to the other side for his convenience. In fact, he tried to use the blockade to his advantage but fell short. He had only two narratives left to finish, but the thought of it had been stolen from his mind. He had no choice but to end the sequence, inconclusively. Just like how she cut off her connection to him, indefinitely.
Stolen, I once stole a capri sun, i was 5. It’s bad to steal. stealing is when you take something that does not belong to you, weither it’s from a store or from a friend. It’s stealing no matter what. and it’s bad woooo.