Love seems to be dead, at the moment of contact and contemplation.
There's hesitation,
when I ponder on my next move.
Loneliness is a curse,
but unprovoked heartache dwindles like a misty cloud.
There is no love in my chest no longer, clinging on to the desperate frames of fascination.
Putting me into a world of pain and loss—
without any satisfaction.
My outlined beliefs of love has come tumbling down...
When the skies seem dim, dull, and rather dunked in a dreary shade of shadows...
I find hope...
...and what a dangerous thing it may be
to feel hope
inside the eyes of another.
I crumple the page, tossing the wad of paper into the pile of identical wasted letters.
Rolling my neck against my shoulders, I groaned.
I'm bad at writing poems. Somewhere, in the delusional part of my imagination, I thought that it would be nice to write about the experience I had the other night. Sweet even. I never got his number - or any of his online profiles. Despite living in a city as big as Los Angeles, it's easy to run across the same people if you know their habits.
Squinting down at the time on my phone, I figured it was late enough to see if there were any parties going on this weekend. Today was Friday, after all. There had to be something going on.
Just by chance, he might be there, too.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of a Party Girl
Short StorySonya hasn't been sober for 3 years. Day or night. But when you're living in a city filled with sin, everyone's struggling with something and being taunted by darkness. California has changed her, making her grades take the backseat and boys contr...
