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  • 10 weeks
    So what's the next story?

    If you finished reading Secondhand Laughter, then you're probably wondering what's next? Or maybe you're not. Maybe you read it and you're about ready for me to stop writing.

    Well, this blog post has something to make either of you happy.

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    2 comments · 110 views
  • 12 weeks
    Upcoming Story Alert: Secondhand Laughter

    Hi everyone! 

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    5 comments · 60 views
  • 12 weeks
    Do you think of me? (Poem)

    Is it hate or is it disgust when you think of me? If you think of me at all. I wonder if the past still lives in you—the way it grips in me. Or did it die, forever long? And, if so, did anyone take time to grieve?

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    0 comments · 26 views
  • 14 weeks
    Behind the Magic

    This contains spoilers for chapter two of The Opening Act. Read that, then continue.

    The Thematics Behind Magic Tricks:

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    1 comments · 62 views
  • 14 weeks
    Soundless Memory (Poem)

    I don’t remember wedding bells
    and I doubt I ever will.
    I recall neither the organ,
    nor the clicking of your heels.
    I hear no congratulations,
    hear no pastor, hear no spiel.
    Burnt sheet music on a stand.
    Rinse it out. Watch the notes spill.

    You smile. I can’t read lips.
    You talk. The deafness grips.

    Tears flow in unknown tongues,
    as you walk down the aisle.

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    0 comments · 25 views

An Anchor Weeps (a poem) · 3:09am June 5th

An anchor weeps its sea salt tears
Absorbed by the flowing current.
The tides ebb around it
as oceans are ones to do
Ever changing.
And yet the anchor sits, unmoving, at home on the silt.

A chain is pulled taut upwards from the anchor towards the depths above.
Attached to what? The anchor does not know, for under the waves it is dark,
much too dark to remember things like glistening pools of sparkling light and the things that dwell in such.

But that chain weighs heavy on the anchor, for it knows what happens to those who get attached,
it grounds them against the tides or sinks them beneath the depths.

Trouble is, in either case, there is eventually only stillness, only silence,
leaving the anchor with no way to know what it has done.

Report thedarkprep · 41 views · #Poem
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