Author: kaitlynhunt

Our Love is a firework show blazing through a cold winter night,
Like a colossal airplane about to take flight,
As big as the sun and as bright as its light…

No other love compared to Our Love,
It was one of a kind,
With chemistry on display;
We didn’t want it any other way,

Our minds were just as connected as our bodies,
Until our fourth summer,
I went away, you stayed home,
There were so many feelings you had not shown…

We had married, Jamie, but that didn’t matter,
It’s like you planned for my heart to shatter,
You had no idea I knew about her,
or the many others whom you could lure,

Now when you visit, there is no spark,
Hardly any words, just small painful glances,
Who knew this would happen, Jamie?
Our Love was forever…

It’s sad to say we were wrong.

Tick tock tick tock tic-
No
There’s no ticking. The clock is broken. The batteries died over 4 weeks ago, and our teacher has either forgotten to replace them, or she simply doesn’t care. I look up once more at the dead timekeeper and uselessly hope to see the minute hand wave back at me. No luck. The clock’s hands permanently linger at the 10:38 stance, though looking outside it is not dark enough to be 10:38 PM, nor is it so early to be 10:38 AM. I try to direct my attention to the teacher who has been droning on about some Spanish verbs for I don’t know how many minutes now and long for this class to reach its end. My friend looks at me and taps her wrist, a gesture to ask: “What time is it?” I remove my phone from my backpack, attempting to hide it from the teachers gaze, so it wouldn’t be taken away, as I presume my friend’s phone has. I indicate with my fingers: 1:34. She rolls her eyes. As if to say, “Only 1:34?”I shrug. Ten more minutes.

The first time I had laid eyes on this angel, Such eyes, Such lovely pairs of sight. Like of autumn’s touch as averted into his eyes. With a tinge of golden dusts and grasses’ fresh new green. The exhilaration and intense adrenaline rush everytime I see her is overwhelming. I had attempted suicide months ago and had images of an angel. Growing up in a household without religion, this was an astonishing event for me, and I never thought I would see an another one again. Then I met her. She took my breath away from the start. Everytime I see her, my heart skips a beat. I look at this enticing celestial human being, and I’m absolutely starstruck. To know that I’m able to have my own angel, all to myself. I’m truly blessed to have her in my life. She is always there for me and I could never ask anything more. She lets me be myself around her. She’s the only one who knows about me truly and honestly.
She is, and forever will be, the love of my life.

As the rain slowly but surely swam down my window, I began to wonder if being here was even an option. It’s 1:22 A.M March 4, 2014 and I lay awake listening to the screams from my parents. My thoughts were pondering, and my mind took control. I was tired. Tired of the unnecessary arguments and the hopes of something better. As I crawled undeniably slow to the bathroom all I wished for was a happier ending. Why did I go through this, why was it my dad that so forcibly clung onto me as he penetrated my so holy body. I was approaching my 2nd trimester. Looking into the mirror I realized I was the left over pieces of a careless humans mistakes. This baby wasn’t something great, my life wasn’t anything but a tragedy. I picked up the bottle and began to swallow. Pill after pill until I reached the few almost invisible crumb-like pieces at the bottom. It was time for me to go. I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry dad but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t live in the shadows.

It’s interesting to think about the detail in things. The way they came to be, or how they’ve been used throughout time. With what I see, this thing is used so much while remaining itself. Used without the feeling of regret or sorrow. It patiently sits, humble and still, only making the slightest whispers and taps with an occasional squeak. It has the power to say so much and have a great impact, while at the same time not saying a word. It often becomes lost or broken, as it is mistreated throughout every day, tossed around and borrowed. Due to the power of what it has to say, it has to have the ability to take back what it says. We will never know if the words taken back would have been encouraging or life-changing. All we know is that those words disappear into little strands that are tossed onto the floor, never to be seen again.

As I wake up the day before the contest find a note on my door that reads “meet in room 536 at 3:40”. As i enter the room I notice Alexa Bliss the person i’m suppose to fight the next morning. She grabs a briefcase from under the bed she tells me “if you throw the match you can have everything in this case”. The next day as i throw the match i go to my room seeing the case on my bed opening it up noticing it is filled with spaghetti

I have never loved the way you look back at me
All I see is the imperfectness.
But other people around, just let me be,
because they know they can’t help my frustration.

It’s hard to smile sometimes
even when I force the joy.
I look back a million times
just hoping I can look past the pain.

You constantly tell me, “You will never be enough”
and I listen because I have no other voice to hear.
You tell me it will make me “tough”,
but all I see is is all the brokenness.

I hate longing for affection
but all I can see is
My Reflection.

I’ve been through
mud dirt cement
and pain.
I help him walk run
and fight.
I have seen a lot of
pain weapons scenery
and grief.
I hold memories.
Robust grim extensive and fleeting.
But everything I remember
has a special place
because fighting
for my country
is unforgettable.

It was a typical day in New York City with your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Spiderman went around the city selling Aunt May’s delicious brownies to make some extra money for a spidey suit. While fight criminals and eating some on the way too!

My chest is very heavy and I feel an object in my hand. It is firm and has a button on the top. I slowly circle my thumb around the button and push down until I feel a click. Dark, black smoke darts up into the air spiraling towards my face. The smoke surrounds every inch of my body until I am completely consumed. Screams wail around me and then in an instant, everything stops. A man approaches dressed in a gown as black as darkness. His face was old and withered. He puts his hand on me and the lights fade into nothingness. I shuffle my feet very slowly until I see a flickering light again. The temperature rises quickly and my skin begins to boil. My hands are cuffed to each other. I look around and see the faces of my ex-coworkers who have been dead for years. The man dressed in black appears again and says “you have quite a reputation down here: robbery, breaking and entering, manslaughter, kidnapping and now suicide bombing. I would get comfortable if I were you, you’re never leaving hell.”