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Wake Up :Frerard: 1"Mom! Dad! No! You can't leave me!"
I bolted up in my bed, my breathing coming out in sharp ragged huffs. My throat was raw from my unconscious sobbing and my face was slick with tears. I ran a hand through my hair which was sticky with sweat. I let out a sigh after a few deep breaths. "Just a dream Just a dream," I muttered to myself.
But it wasn't. No matter how many times I woke up, my parents were still dead. My parents still died in a car accident. My little brother Mikey and I were sitting in the back. I was trying to keep Mikey in his seatbelt when it happened. A semi-truck had burst into the intersection and hit the front of the car. And only the front of the car. My parents died, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.
I was seventeen then; Mikey two. Now, five years later, I was in custody of Mikey. I had made it my job to take care of him and give him the life he deserved.
There was a soft knock on my d
What If We Didn't Know- Chapter One
"Fucking finally!" Frank hollered, slamming the front door of his house open and parading inside. "Summer didn't come soon fucking enough."
I laughed, following after him and dropping my bag on the floor next to the couch. "Jesus Franklin, watch your fucking language!" I mock-scolded.
"Both of y'all need to watch your mouths," Gerard drawled from behind us, and I turned to see a smirk adorning his face. "This is no place for such vile obscenities."
Frank raised an eyebrow at him. "My house, my rules," he stated, then stuck his tongue out. "So go make love to a fruit cake or something."
Gerard chuckled and draped his arm over my shoulder. "How come you didn't bitch at Mikey-Mike when when he told you to shut up but I got told to violate a dessert?"
"Because I like Mikey better," Frank retorted, crossing his arms and plopping down on the sofa.
"Well I like Mikey better too," Gerard laughed in my ear, his arm sliding down to my waist to give me a quick squeeze. I felt myself blushing slig
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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