Comments Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton

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half

half of what i am always seems to be you. No matter what I may do to try and detach myself from you, it seems as though small little reminiscent parts of you will always be present…in my eyes…..in my smile….in my skin. You’re everywhere, and I wish I could rid myself of you.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 09.29.2011 @ 7:09 pm

pepper

The pepper and salt were my idealistic focus point. I hated looking in people’s eyes, especially when they were so accusing. My mom’s were burning a hole right into the center of my forehead as I nervously drummed my fingers up and down the table, breaking the morning silence with the hissing coffee pot. She turned, I heard her heels on the kitchen tiles, and then I heard her pouring the morning brown liquid into one cup, then two all the while focused on that pepper and salt shaker.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 09.04.2011 @ 8:21 am

salt

the salty taste of the water was enough to make me gag, burning my eyes as I struggled to reach the surface. My arms flailed to the point where they grew tired against the cold lashing waves, and I could feel myself tumbling farther and farther down into the black abyss that would become my grave.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 09.02.2011 @ 2:25 pm

mist

the mist hit my face like a personal kiss from the ocean, chilling as it touched my already damp skin. I shivered slightly, breathing in the salty air around me and swallowing down the marshy stench that swam up from the ground. The wooden boardwalk beneath me was swollen from moisture.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 08.30.2011 @ 9:08 am

boiling

The only thing I could focus on was the boiling water in the pot on the stove. One thing at a time, that was how my mind was working now. I couldn’t focus on the small minuscule things like my mother coming down the stairs, or the creaking door opening in the gusts of wind. No, just focusing on what’s in front of me.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 08.02.2011 @ 8:34 pm

step

I stepped into the room without a clue of who I was. I remembered that only moments before I knew who I was, but now it all vanished before me like a breath in the wind. I was no one, I had no identity; I was just a human shell that knew how to survive with vital signs and communication. My personality was gone.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 07.31.2011 @ 8:13 am

whiskey

she tasted like whiskey and cigarettes to many, but I could almost taste the desperation on her tongue. It was as if she was longing to be someone’s somebody, not just the drunken hookup you could always find. She was just searching in the wrong places, she was looking for her somebody where there was no hope. I could be her somebody.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 04.17.2011 @ 5:21 pm

bench

A bench is a useless thing to write about. The only thing interesting about it is the fact that you don’t actually know who sat there before you. It kind of gives you a gross feeling actually….thinking about the fact that you could be sitting in the same exact spot as someone you absolutely despise….or a disgusting individual. I guess it’s just more the idea that germs spread so easily that creeps people out about benches.

» Posted By Lauren Flores-Walton On 02.23.2011 @ 3:47 pm

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