stories over stuff

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Poem: Appropriate Jealousy

When she’s kissed she’s alive, wanted and wanting and I am jealous. I am never alive not kissed, nor loved, not held. I am. This is all. Little comments that dig at my soul. Little kisses that inflate her ego....

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Haphazard Housework

I tackle housework in a sort of wing it, haphazard manner. In that, I probably make more mess in tidying up than I clean. It’s not my fault. Really. I do most things in a wing it, haphazard manner, not...

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Fiction: Denial – Kara and Etta

Written for the Lost & Found: Valentine’s Edition blog hop. Kara doesn’t think it’s love. Not at first, not for a long time. She knows love. Knows how it feels – she’s sure of it. This doesn’t feel like that....

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More About Us

So, bread and bethend, who are these people? And why write a blog? You’d think this would be an easy post, but as my anxiety bubbles up, I have to wonder if this is what’s causing it. Even though I...

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Awkward Baby Making

Be forewarned of the following: language and awkwardness. There are few things more awkward in the world than having a guy come over to your house and wank into a cup. One of those things is talking about how you’re...

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Poetry: Pinpricks

Stars are pinpricks of heat and light that burn. We are desperate moths blind and lost, abandoned, Clear nights call to us, beckon us with a whisper, we can’t resist it the desperate pull. Stars are pinpricks of heat and...