Comments Posted By Gailyn

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He left without a word. Just as he had entered, he and exited. I sat there, bare except for my blanket, wondering how I could get him to stay next time. Wondering what it would it take to keep him by my side. Forever.

» Posted By Gailyn On 11.15.2011 @ 6:39 pm


The way the sweet juice spills over my lips. The sweet and spiciness of this fruit, always reminding me of you, my little Mango. I miss the way you used to touch me, the way you used to look at me. My darling little Mango.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.23.2011 @ 11:01 am


The smell of it, wrapped around each golden strand of her curly hair, is the only thing I look forward to when I think about walking into that office on a cold, brisk Monday morning. My wife only smells of baby formula.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.21.2011 @ 10:30 am


The pool of blood had the look of chocolate syrup, but the harsh, aged smell of copper. She wasn’t sorry, not at all for what she had just done. She loved him after all. Always had, and always will. She wasn’t worried, he’d be waiting for her on the other side.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.15.2011 @ 5:39 pm


It was a thought, a stupid and selfish thought. I was young, and depressed, and looking for the easiest way out. The pills were just so easy to get a hold of. I regret ever thinking this way. Suicide is a bittersweet kind of dark, morose, and cheap bottle of wine.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.05.2011 @ 12:03 am


My Darkroom is my sanction, my church, my mosque, my cathedral. When I am drowned by the darkness in this room I am in my clearest state of mind. It is here that I become the person I am okay with being.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.01.2011 @ 11:13 am


My bones and brain turn to jelly at the thought of you. Seeing you puts me in comatose. I do not understand what it is about your being that makes it so hard for me to exist in front of you. It’s as if you have some strange hold over me. A hold I can not get out of.

» Posted By Gailyn On 02.01.2011 @ 2:15 am


Words are so strong, yet so hard to speak. For instance, I want to say “I love you” it feels so powerful, so true. But I am far too weak to mumble such a beautiful sentence. Maybe, if I printed it out, and gave it to you, it’d be easier.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.30.2011 @ 12:02 pm


That was it. His balls had dropped, and he had become a man, well, he was on the way to becoming a man anyhow. I noticed this in him, and something about it had suddenly turned me on. I was attracted to the boy he who sat behind me since the 3rd grade. I thought about him all the time, especially in the shower, the place where my mother says you are supposed to wash away your sins.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.28.2011 @ 11:59 am


She knew that day she would have to report to him. After months and months of watching, and growing fine specimens, each one had died. She could not find a way to keep them going. Maybe the oxygen was killing them off slowly, she had no real idea why it was they kept dying.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.27.2011 @ 11:18 am


I don’t know you. You are not related to me. I see nothing of myself in you. The word father does not apply to you. I do not pretend to know you, to love you, to want you as the man who was responsible for me. I want you gone, you are not related to me.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.27.2011 @ 12:22 am


I was ready to explode. Like a children’s bottle rocket. How could you? How could you do this to me. The pain I feel is hot, and harsh. Like the fuel in a rocket,

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.24.2011 @ 1:04 pm


I thought I had you solved. Figured out. Completed. But then you had to turn the tables. Now I realize you have had me from the beginning. But I can turn tables just as well, hell I can turn this place upside down. I will solve you this time.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.23.2011 @ 2:29 pm


I live on whims. It was a whim when I grabbed my coffee this morning. It was on a whim that I chose my outfit, and when I went out to the Castro. It was on a whim when I decided to “date” you. Whim’s are whimsical.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.15.2011 @ 1:46 am


Wake. Each time I awake, I feel as if I am prepping for a wake. A time for those around me to judge me, but not with words, just with their eyes, for I am not dead, just simply in a daze. Waking up for each wake is hard, and grows ever so tiring, causing such sharp pains within my chest.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.12.2011 @ 11:49 pm


They sicken me. Each blotch tells me that I am no model. That I am average, or less than average. Blotches are icky, and leave me feeling sorry for myself. Like I need a blotch to tell me I am no beauty queen. I know this already.

» Posted By Gailyn On 01.11.2011 @ 1:08 pm

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