Tag: Fiction
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The A****** Ones
the ab***** ones know how to hold a woman i should stop talking
G. Pearson
anxiety, art, cause and effect, Christian writing, creative nonfiction, daily haiku, Daily Poetry, daily writing, death, dreams, drinking, earthly pleasures, emotional, escapism, faith, Fiction, haiku, Hiatus, inspiration, life and death, life lessons, life of a writer, loneliness, love letter, memories, metaphor, Micro Poetry, mood, nature, pandemic, Poem Of The Day, Poetry, questions, romance, secret love, self-help, self-improvement, short story, social distance, stress, temptation, Writing -
A Gentle Love Like Harold
Chapter 1: Dinner & Love & Wide Smiles If there was anything I could possibly add to my collection of stationery, I am sure Harry is adding it to a gift package for my promotion party right now. He insists we make it special even though the promotion is lateral. Without a pay increase. After […]
G. Pearson
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Flavor Profile
You see him? He likes to always be chasing something. It’s what made him a hustler. So he’s always dating a girl a totally different race. There’s Tony, here, who likes to feel connected one on one with his girl. So he doesn’t mix it up. Keeps it kosher and what not. Then there’s me. […]
G. Pearson
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Legs On The Surface Of Me
The words you said have me grinding my teeth so that my tongue doesn’t slip through. If it could, this tongue would curse you and thereby curse me. I click “delete and report junk” on each received message because I refuse to let your pestilent legs leave an imprint on the surface of me.
G. Pearson
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Who Takes The Dog?
No one wanted her. And now here she is. Homeless. Take her. Cause I wont.
G. Pearson
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My Neighbor, Jeanette
Nora, I came by to ask you about the cookies you made last night for the dinner party. I see you’re out, so I just nabbed the recipe out of the cabinet. I’ll return it as soon as I can! Thank you! I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow at that Southern place. 1pm. Moonflower. That’s […]
G. Pearson
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Mind Open to Being Closed
High Paranoia. Once neighbor, now judge—witness. One by one, doors slam.
G. Pearson