Left over on the cup after the month is up: residue. Is it minerals? Sometimes a tiny fly’s wing or a different thing, a clunk of dust from the curtain rod. What’s left over.
Left over raindrops staining the window, cannot see as sun is shining through the residue. Must find petrol station to wash the residue off , sun is so strong it makes you blind…not good.
The residue of the stains of greasy feet and hands followed me as I left the house. It follows me still leaving prints all over everything I do. I wonder when it will ever leave me. But I don’t know if it will ever leave you. Either I should go wash my hands and feet, then I’ll be able to chew on the grace of washing and washing all this already pale, dry skin that’s always being washed… Or maybe I should just never eat that food again.
I rub the thin, oily substance between my fingers while looking at my painting. The work in progress has a dull shine to it and has a sour scent. Is it possible I used olive oil to paint with? With an air of vague confusion, I drop my wet paintbrush into my not-quite-empty coffee cup and take a step back.
I dont quite know the meaning of this word, but I am familiar with the word itself. When I find out what it means I will probably say “Oh I knew that.”
The residue of the old scotch tape lingered on my Great Aunt’s chest of drawers. She died in her house, and this is what I got. Crappy. Old. Furniture. Now, I didn’t really know her– other than the delicious peanut butter cookies she made for Christmas. Christmases before my tenth birthday of course, when our family all still got together for those holidays and stuff.
“Get out!” He screamed, seeing the white, powderous residue resting on the table.
“What?” He replied, obviously confused.
“You KNOW what I mean!” This wasn’t the first time this has happened, and they’ve had it out before over the same thing. He’s sworn, he’s promised, he’s given his word but each and every time he gave in, the urge, the rush of the cocaine simply to euphoric to resist. He tolerated it for a while; after all, he’s been in the same position before, but now it was just too much. After so much time it’s just not worth putting up with any more, and this particular instance was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I’ve had enough of this William, I can’t put up with seeing you like this. Get yourself cleaned up or get yourself out of this house, otherwise things are going to get worse”
what is left over after everything is done, chemical reactions leave behind substance which is not required like a person just left over when they are not required its the little things stuck to the bottom of the glass and spread so thin maybe sometimes aren’t visible
grime rust tub gross ugly brown green pollen left covers rags barf hot yucky stuff gross dirty left behind hate bad negative hate this word yuck barf gross I don;t know why they gave me this terrible word to write about it makes me think of cleaning bathtubs all day and toilets it is gross why cant I get a positive word barf a thousand times.
all that’s left is dust and a letter on my nightstand, your almost unreadable printing telling me you will always love me. and now all that’s left is dust and a letter on my nightstand.
i do not like this word, but it reminds me of the residue left on shiny things after it rains. and the slimy texture it has that i do not particularly like. there is something about wet metal that is very unappealing.
His cologne stained clothes still remained in the same positon they were left in. His ties, shoes, and pants all in the same drawers. He left me with an grieving heart as he went on to something bigger than our love combined. Now I am just left with the small piece of him.
Pizza stuck to the roof of your mouth, the tar that lays low in your lungs, the faint smell of her perfume in the room. The thin film that’s on your teeth in the morning…
A substance that’s not always thought about. It’s what’s always left behind. But what if its beautiful? What if the things that are left behind are awesome? People always look at the initial gift in life, well, what if the residue of life is cool too? What if the little things that are left behind are better than all the good things?
residue, stick like a pesticide to an apple. like peanut butter toast that lands side down. Lines your lungs after each cigaret, makes your brain swim like a day after the bar.
the thick fog over took the girls body as she walked down the rain kissed street. her hair stuck to her face as she made her way over to the fallen figure. kneeling down the color of crimson catches her eye. seeing the gun residue on his shirt she knew exactly what had happened. looking around once for quick safety measures she stood and ran..
my memory left a residue on my heart and no matter what i can not clean it off. and as time passes it gradually grows thicker and thicker weighing me down. i feel like im drowning gasping for air. is there a cure. a way to make it go away. cause my happiness is dissapearing.
there was a residue on the inside of the mason jar from all the summer days that it was filled with lemonade. there was never any need to clean it, she would just keep refilling it. one for her, one for him. those were the days they were in love. their stories would float up to the ceiling in the endless hourss spent at the kitchen table. now all that’s left is just the residue.
the thing that sticks. what’s left of your ridiculous outrage over insignificant stuff of stuffs. the glue. the thing that keeps you from leaving–or coming back for that matter. good and bad, it lingers. it is transparent. it leaves you wondering…and whispering complaint after complaint. it ridicules your actions.
there was a residue on the inside of the mason jar from all the summer days that it was filled with lemonade. there was never any need to clean it, she would just keep refilling it. one for her, one for him. those were the days they were in love. their stories would float up to the ceiling in the endless hourss spent at the kitchen table. now all that’s left is just the residue.
Residue from the food she was eating was left in a few scattered spots along the side of her shirt. She really didn’t take much notice to it, nor did she really care. But it drove him crazy, and he thought she was being absolutely disgusting by leaving it there.
Ok I wrote a perfectly good response to ‘residue’ and it got deleted because the site doesn’t warn you that you have to register first. Great. This sucks I want to unsubscribe from this thing.
I stared down at the residue on the dusk grass because I sure as hell couldn’t look him in the eyes. His question bothered me, but he repeated it. “I’ve waited for you. Aren’t you ready?” I was ready, but I also didn’t want to give my life away. “I don’t know!” I exclaimed, and he gave me the most hurt look I’ve ever seen. The pain stuck in my chest, and I wanted to hold him tight as he walked away from the night.
Residue. It is what is left behind. All is done now, the house sleeps. The residue remains. The residue sobs quiet tears and waits to be brushed away in a fit of disgust. The residue cries. The unwanted. The outsider.
a sticky substance on say a table. or the left behind stuff that makes sex dirty. My boyfriend loves it when I leave my residue on his manhood. lol its a fun word to say. residue…re-si-due.
The effects were ghastly. Children lined the edges of the street, their ashen faces downcast with the news of losing the war. So many had been affected. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters– all lost. The damaging effects of what the modern society calls war.
Residue of thoughts of you leave me bitter and blue. If you only knew what I felt for you, maybe then it would be true. I wish there was something I could do to make you see all that you do for me.
Chemistry.
Left over on the cup after the month is up: residue. Is it minerals? Sometimes a tiny fly’s wing or a different thing, a clunk of dust from the curtain rod. What’s left over.
Left over raindrops staining the window, cannot see as sun is shining through the residue. Must find petrol station to wash the residue off , sun is so strong it makes you blind…not good.
The residue of the stains of greasy feet and hands followed me as I left the house. It follows me still leaving prints all over everything I do. I wonder when it will ever leave me. But I don’t know if it will ever leave you. Either I should go wash my hands and feet, then I’ll be able to chew on the grace of washing and washing all this already pale, dry skin that’s always being washed… Or maybe I should just never eat that food again.
left over joys have gone, now all that is left is bitter and residual waste due to all
A residue of a lazy hue lined the chords of his “adieu”.
I rub the thin, oily substance between my fingers while looking at my painting. The work in progress has a dull shine to it and has a sour scent. Is it possible I used olive oil to paint with? With an air of vague confusion, I drop my wet paintbrush into my not-quite-empty coffee cup and take a step back.
I dont quite know the meaning of this word, but I am familiar with the word itself. When I find out what it means I will probably say “Oh I knew that.”
The residue of the old scotch tape lingered on my Great Aunt’s chest of drawers. She died in her house, and this is what I got. Crappy. Old. Furniture. Now, I didn’t really know her– other than the delicious peanut butter cookies she made for Christmas. Christmases before my tenth birthday of course, when our family all still got together for those holidays and stuff.
“Get out!” He screamed, seeing the white, powderous residue resting on the table.
“What?” He replied, obviously confused.
“You KNOW what I mean!” This wasn’t the first time this has happened, and they’ve had it out before over the same thing. He’s sworn, he’s promised, he’s given his word but each and every time he gave in, the urge, the rush of the cocaine simply to euphoric to resist. He tolerated it for a while; after all, he’s been in the same position before, but now it was just too much. After so much time it’s just not worth putting up with any more, and this particular instance was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I’ve had enough of this William, I can’t put up with seeing you like this. Get yourself cleaned up or get yourself out of this house, otherwise things are going to get worse”
I have no idea what this word means so it like trying to remeber someone i never met. Impossible.
what is left over after everything is done, chemical reactions leave behind substance which is not required like a person just left over when they are not required its the little things stuck to the bottom of the glass and spread so thin maybe sometimes aren’t visible
grime rust tub gross ugly brown green pollen left covers rags barf hot yucky stuff gross dirty left behind hate bad negative hate this word yuck barf gross I don;t know why they gave me this terrible word to write about it makes me think of cleaning bathtubs all day and toilets it is gross why cant I get a positive word barf a thousand times.
all that’s left is dust and a letter on my nightstand, your almost unreadable printing telling me you will always love me. and now all that’s left is dust and a letter on my nightstand.
Just found some white glowing residue on my strange weird-ass coat that I only wear on winter. What a sexy night it was, gosh.
i do not like this word, but it reminds me of the residue left on shiny things after it rains. and the slimy texture it has that i do not particularly like. there is something about wet metal that is very unappealing.
His cologne stained clothes still remained in the same positon they were left in. His ties, shoes, and pants all in the same drawers. He left me with an grieving heart as he went on to something bigger than our love combined. Now I am just left with the small piece of him.
Pizza stuck to the roof of your mouth, the tar that lays low in your lungs, the faint smell of her perfume in the room. The thin film that’s on your teeth in the morning…
A substance that’s not always thought about. It’s what’s always left behind. But what if its beautiful? What if the things that are left behind are awesome? People always look at the initial gift in life, well, what if the residue of life is cool too? What if the little things that are left behind are better than all the good things?
residue, stick like a pesticide to an apple. like peanut butter toast that lands side down. Lines your lungs after each cigaret, makes your brain swim like a day after the bar.
the thick fog over took the girls body as she walked down the rain kissed street. her hair stuck to her face as she made her way over to the fallen figure. kneeling down the color of crimson catches her eye. seeing the gun residue on his shirt she knew exactly what had happened. looking around once for quick safety measures she stood and ran..
my memory left a residue on my heart and no matter what i can not clean it off. and as time passes it gradually grows thicker and thicker weighing me down. i feel like im drowning gasping for air. is there a cure. a way to make it go away. cause my happiness is dissapearing.
Garrett knelt down next to the body and closely examined the powdery residue left on the skin. He didn’t touch it, but he recognized the faint odor.
sticky leftover gross unpleasant unwanted wet dry translucent
there was a residue on the inside of the mason jar from all the summer days that it was filled with lemonade. there was never any need to clean it, she would just keep refilling it. one for her, one for him. those were the days they were in love. their stories would float up to the ceiling in the endless hourss spent at the kitchen table. now all that’s left is just the residue.
The residue is everywhere. Its on the wall, on the concrete. In his hair, on his skin. It’s imprinted into the foreground of my memory.
the thing that sticks. what’s left of your ridiculous outrage over insignificant stuff of stuffs. the glue. the thing that keeps you from leaving–or coming back for that matter. good and bad, it lingers. it is transparent. it leaves you wondering…and whispering complaint after complaint. it ridicules your actions.
there was a residue on the inside of the mason jar from all the summer days that it was filled with lemonade. there was never any need to clean it, she would just keep refilling it. one for her, one for him. those were the days they were in love. their stories would float up to the ceiling in the endless hourss spent at the kitchen table. now all that’s left is just the residue.
Residue from the food she was eating was left in a few scattered spots along the side of her shirt. She really didn’t take much notice to it, nor did she really care. But it drove him crazy, and he thought she was being absolutely disgusting by leaving it there.
The residue from this crime scene is made. How was this person killed? Why was it done this way?
Ok I wrote a perfectly good response to ‘residue’ and it got deleted because the site doesn’t warn you that you have to register first. Great. This sucks I want to unsubscribe from this thing.
I stared down at the residue on the dusk grass because I sure as hell couldn’t look him in the eyes. His question bothered me, but he repeated it. “I’ve waited for you. Aren’t you ready?” I was ready, but I also didn’t want to give my life away. “I don’t know!” I exclaimed, and he gave me the most hurt look I’ve ever seen. The pain stuck in my chest, and I wanted to hold him tight as he walked away from the night.
Residue. It is what is left behind. All is done now, the house sleeps. The residue remains. The residue sobs quiet tears and waits to be brushed away in a fit of disgust. The residue cries. The unwanted. The outsider.
i have no idea what this work means! i should be embarrassed haha.. ill check it up in a dictionary just now
a sticky substance on say a table. or the left behind stuff that makes sex dirty. My boyfriend loves it when I leave my residue on his manhood. lol its a fun word to say. residue…re-si-due.
bshhhh
did thoe one -.-
The effects were ghastly. Children lined the edges of the street, their ashen faces downcast with the news of losing the war. So many had been affected. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters– all lost. The damaging effects of what the modern society calls war.
Residue of thoughts of you leave me bitter and blue. If you only knew what I felt for you, maybe then it would be true. I wish there was something I could do to make you see all that you do for me.
dude clean the residue off the spoon before the landlord comes in and sees that stuff!!