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I used to hate it. Staring at me from the middle of an otherwise perfect piece. But now that its gone i realise it is was always perfect.
By followyourbliss URL on 04.03.2013
there was a smudge of love left on her heart. she did everything she could to wipe it clean but the smudge was relentless. reappearing. like a window streak. eventually all she could see was the smudge. it had grown bigger than the heart itself. even larger than life.
By Safon URL on 04.03.2013
Pencil on fingertip, graphite under skin. I call it stigmata, but it’s just a tip of lead or something like it that has trapped itself in my skin and glows from beneath. An internal smudge.
By Danae on 04.03.2013
“There’s a smudge on your cheek, darling”, said the handsome male in a suit and tie.
“Do you mind removing it for me?” Replied the woman in a long silky gown.
“No problem at all, milady.”
the handsome young male reached in to his pocket for a handkerchief, and to his surprise, found none. The young woman stared in wonder as the male stood from his sit and dashed to the opposite direction, shouting “MOM, I NEED A NAPKIN!”. A strong woman then emerged from a door beneath a beautiful home, handed the napkin to her son and replied, “Here you go. You play nice with the neighbor now, honey. I’ll call you when snacks are ready.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Shouted the male as he ran off to his playmate to hand the napkin.
By Jem URL on 04.03.2013
Another mark on the slate of life. Make it as beautiful as you can because you will be able to look back on it with joy, surround yourself with it while you have a smile on your face and look forward to greater smudging with hope.
By Tracey URL on 04.03.2013
They are a stain upon our world. The idea that one can be fixed is dangerous; now is a time to improve our self-image, not critisise it in favour of something make-believe.
By Susan URL on 04.03.2013
A smudge can be tiny and insignificant – like the smallest grammatical mistake. What is interesting about this is that even the most insignificant smudge can be extremely unpleasant. The same can be said for a grammar error. It can lead to massive problems.
By Chris URL on 04.03.2013
he smudged me, pulled me up to his figure, looked into my eyes and said.. YOU!
By Ann on 04.03.2013
There was a smudge of eyeliner on my violin. I never wear eyeliner, so that was the first clue. I now knew that somebody who wore a lot of eyeliner stole it—which, in this city of goth, was not much of a clue.
By Isis on 04.03.2013
Smudge. Left-handers know this word way too well. Especially when using ink pens. In every single essay, there will be at least one smudge on the piece of paper.
Being a left-hander and the stubborn prick I am, you are bound to see marks here and there on my essays.
By Nyan on 04.03.2013
I look at life conflicts as little smudges on the bright future ahead of me. We all have to deal with many of these smudges in our lifetimes. The ones who choose to sit and worry about them are the ones that are never able to get rid of them.
By Paula URL on 04.03.2013
Why am I writing about the word smudge? It’s really not that interesting lah so I’m gonna be a rebel and write about something else like what? Idk, chicken. Ok, chicken. It’s yummy and awesome. The word smudge is staring at me right now being like, “WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING ABOUT ME? WRITE ABOUT ME!” and it’s making me feel bad.
By Lucy URL on 04.03.2013
there is a smudge in a place that should be clean. time to clean it. make it new and fresh. what happens to the smudge? does it die? or just disappear and why does the smudge have to cease to be? is this fair? so which deserves to be more the clean or the smudge?
By serenity on 04.03.2013
the smudge spread across her face. she didn’t notice she just kept on treading through the forest. her mission wasn’t simple. she didn’t think of what she would need to do once she got there though.
By Trah on 04.03.2013
I smudge my face into the wate because it was to hot and I grabbed an apple wile I smudge my face in the water.
By CristianP on 04.03.2013
By Alicia on 04.03.2013
A smudge on his forehead. I wanted to wipe it off, until I remembered: Ash Wednesday. I bit m tongue. I didn’t dare ask if there was anything he felt the need to repent for this holiday. Also, being of the Chosen People, I wasn’t quite sure what the deeper meaning of the day was. So I stood there, silent, and smiling.
By Lana on 04.03.2013
it was right there,under her left eye. not so much a solid mark as a few crusty bits of leftover mascara from last night that, when you weren’t looking right at it, composed the shadow of a black eye.
By Katherine147 URL on 04.03.2013
Smudge sticks, tap tapping off my arms
There’s so many things around me
A haze off the sea
Dark-lit smudges of nature and
People’s collected conscience
Thumb prints, pencil dust colouring
Dusting my skin and the skin of my world
By Saudade URL on 04.03.2013
Muddy hands pressed themselves into the clean, white wall and dragged downwards. The pressure leaving distinctive fingerpaths and an angry mark on the once seemingly perfect and hated void.
By Park URL on 04.03.2013
There was a smudge on the window…a grubby thumb and fingerprints that spoke of innocence, mischievousness and joy in life. I sighed to think that for me it meant cleaning products and wondering what the visitors would think.
By Judy Cooper URL on 04.03.2013
I couldn’t get clean. It was as if the smudge had stuck onto the underneath. I couldn’t get clean. I scrubbed and pushed and gnawed at it. I couldn’t get clean. All I could was watch, as the smudge took me over.
By Nick URL on 04.03.2013
Smudge? I’ve got a smudge on my glasses. I don’t even know how it got there. It looks weird when I take off my glasses and look, but when I’m wearing it, its like a window into another world. Like I can see into something. I don’t know, I’m just weird. But I have a lot of thoughts, and no where to put them. They’re floating around, unwanted, mostly unseen. Just like this tiny little smudge on my glasses. But when you see it up close, it’s bigger and more complicated than almost anything I’ve ever known.
By Ashley URL on 04.03.2013
My brother smudged my foot when he was running around the block and now my foot really hurts
By Nicole on 04.03.2013
My brother smudged my iPad screen when he was playing a game and now it is all broken and dirty because he dropped it on the floor
You’ve got something on your face, she said, leaning in to wipe it.
And now I’ve got spit on my face, Kyle said, nose wrinkling.
And a smudge, his friend added helpfully.
By Zac Katz-Stein URL on 04.03.2013
The boy smudged the white towel with his dirty hands.
By Marvin G on 04.03.2013
there is a smudge on my soul
in my heart.
it’s a little gray patch
of incriminating darkness
that i can’t wash away
but behind it,
some golden light glows
and hopefully, overtakes.
By Kimberly on 04.03.2013
When you smudge a screen on a iPad or tv it gets really dirty and it is sometimes hard to clean it of so I don’t let anyone play on my iPad especially my brother because he presses my screen really hard and know I can’t clean it off
I found a smudge on my shirt my favorite shirt why! why! Eeh
By Destiny on 04.03.2013
i found your lipstick
on the back of my toothbrush this morning,
from that time you slept over
and borrowed it.
last week you were
a touch of DNA
on the rim of a wine glass,
explicit, obscene, for all my guests to see.
a day after you left,
you were still kissing me in my sleep,
red as ever,
on pillowcase substitute.
all these things you should have cleaned
and didn’t. you don’t know how glad
i am to realize
you would’ve made a shit housewife
because i cannot find
anything else wrong with you
and it’s terrifying. time to rinse, i guess;
time to wash and launder, time to drown.
By h. b. URL on 04.03.2013
they had been communicating solely by phone. none of them had ever layed eyes upon one another. when they tried to picture a face, all they would get would be a vague,smudged vision
By dada URL on 04.03.2013
Staring into the smudged bathroom mirror, I feel a wave of shock pass over me- instead of the usual dreary face staring back at me, this girl looked alive, feral, like somebody who’d seen things. She had my features, but it was as though somebody else was looking out through my eyes. I stepped out with a new stride, determined to become her.
By MarisaInSanFrancisca URL on 04.03.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.