Scratch, scratch, scratch “Stop that! Your gonna rip out your hair”… Scratch! “Stop it!”
“Why, it’s my hair?”
“It’s freaking me out.”
“So you lied…. you don’t care about my hair at all!”
“I never said I did.”
“True, but you acted like it. Why isn’t there a word for lying with your actions” He said quickly before picking off a bloody scab with several hairs attached and flicking it at her.
“What the fuck it wrong with you!?”
“you.” A smile spread slowly across his face. “Aren’t you glad you’re stuck with me?”
A contest entry
- Titles! by Walking Oxymoron.
700 points, ended December 28, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Huh???
Lol.
I like the way you took this, it's so different to what eevryone else has done.
In that way, I like it! It makes you read, and think.
Great write! -
this is amusing, love.
Adding your comment:
