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Slow Dance
The world seemed to spin. As we danced I felt the world collapse to my feet. We were the only thing that mattered. We were the only things that cared. Our dance lasted hours, and ended too soon. There was something in our hearts that prevented us from saying goodbye. So instead, I watched you die. I asked why it had to happen this way. I received no answer. So why should I tell you how I feel? Why should I give you every detail of my life? Because I have nothing left. Our slow dance died when he did. When I did. Now I don’t care anymore. I just want out. I just want to be someone that everybody knows. That everyone admires. Is that possible? Or am I just dreaming again? I know that my dreams remain to be explained, even to myself. Just hear me now. My dreams are the only thing I have left. The only thing that keeps you close to me. So this interview, or whatever you want to call it. An interrogation. It ends now. Okay? Stop asking me questions. Stop delving into my past. It has died. I have died. There is nothing left. So please, stop asking if I’m okay. Stop asking –
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| Expand it. I know where you're coming from -- I feel as though I've been there, but the other comments are right on too -- You can make it so much more! Let me know, I would love to read the next version. It almost goes with Dead, or could. |
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Comment by: kayc Online- 2008-05-01 04:29
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| It might serve you better to find one thing you want to enlarge upon and use it to your advantage. My suggestion, is use the dancing as the whole thread you build from, and do not switch from dancing to introspection. |
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Comment by: 12R - 2008-04-30 19:49
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| I'm sorry... I feel like I'm harassing you, but you give your readers ideas, but you don't give them a single thing they can hold onto, smell, touch, taste, see. You're only giving out thoughts. |
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