I peel
hiss tense fingers
on his right hand
away from
the steering wheel,
one
two
three
four
five.
With each finger,
the scowl
diappears
a little more. when i place
his hand on
my leg
and gently
caress it, he smiles.
That's better.
Stichwörter: love relax amber cade
Maybe, just maybe, a reader would feel a little less alone in the world.
Lisa SchroederYour parents may have created you, but they don't define you.
Lisa SchroederCircumstances shape who we are and who we become. I believe that. But I also believe we have choices. There are always choices.
Lisa SchroederWRAP ME UP
I shiver.
He pulls away.
"Are you cold?" he asks.
"A little.
Plus... you know."
"What?"
"Um... your kisses?"
He laughs,
pulls me down
onto the blanket
and wraps his arms
and legs around me.
Perfect.
My kind of blanket.
Stichwörter: love kiss p231 ramance
I journeyed to a place where it's always raining cupcakes. I didn't need a passport, but I met a lot of interesting people and experienced new things. Even though the trip was a little bumpy, I got there just fine.
Lisa SchroederWhen you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don't even have to kiss to have fireworks go off. It's like fireworks in your heart all the time. I always wondered, do opposites really attract? Now I know for sure they do. I'd grown up going to the library as often as most people go to the grocery store. Jackson didn't need to read about exciting people or places. He went out and found them, or created excitement himself if there wasn't any to be found. The things I like are pretty simple. Burning CDs around themes, like Songs to Get You Groove On and Tunes to Fix a Broken Heart; watching movies; baking cookies; and swimming. It's like I was a salad with a light vinaigrette, and Jackson was a platter of seafood Cajun pasta. Alone, we were good. Together, we were fantastic.
Lisa SchroederStichwörter: love together opposites
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Life hands us things we don't want. Nasty things. Terrible things. It's how we handle those things that matters. That's all.
Lisa SchroederAnd what I think is that
when you’re completely alone
and deep inside yourself
with feelings no one else can understand,
there really aren’t a hundred places to go.
It’s like if I woke up one day
and looked outside
and saw purple trees
and red grass and green dogs,
is there anyone I could tell who would understand?
No.
There’d be no one.
It’s exactly like that.
He saw purple trees
and red grass and green dogs
while no one else did.
And maybe,
he just got tired
of seeing them.
Stichwörter: suicide
I hear the word
in the hall
over and over again.
Suicide.
Suicide.
Suicide.
Did he or didn’t he?
Everyone’s got a guess.
Still no one knows for sure,
except Gabe,
but he’s not talking.
Why does it even matter?
He’s gone.
His, ours, theirs—
blame needs a place.
His, ours, theirs—
pain all over the place.
His, ours, theirs—
forgiveness missing from this place.
Stichwörter: forgiveness suicide grief blame
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