Is It My Fault?_That's why it's called 'Gambling'_LOS TRES GOLPES_At the Mercy of Yo
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Is It My Fault?
Is It My Fault? Milton Louis SteinbergHe’s dead. Henry’s dead, the son of a bitch. How could he?Don’t speak harshly of the….He’s dead. I’m free…but not like this. (Ugh, with a pipe.)Oh, why did I marry him, why, why, why?He wanted me, that’s why I married him. I knew right away he wasn’t…, but he wanted me. I wanted to write my poetry, and he wanted…me…me. More than anything in the world he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes. www.onedoor.ccI could feel it radiating off of him like heat when we were together. He wanted me, and it’s wonderful to be wanted like that. He pressed towards me, reached towards ...
That's why it's called 'Gambling'
Life can teach lessons even in a pseudo-casino, like Not Vegas. ‘Not Vegas’ was once a private veterans club in the outskirts of Cleveland, OH. But over time fewer and fewer military men and women joined the club and it had become a social club that basically opened its doors to anyone over 21、 The new owner changed the name to ‘Not Vegas’- supposed to be the closest thing to Las Vegas one could get in Ohio. It had one major reno in the building's lifetime and in its prime was a bright red brick building with white pillars wrapped in swirling neon lights and the inside had shiny bar tops and ...
LOS TRES GOLPES
Words: 1975 Los Tres Golpes 1、 The vacation was supposed to have been fun. Kate had been looking forward to the mangú. It was a traditional Dominican dish she had fallen in love with years ago, on her honeymoon, when first vacationing on the island. It was made of green plantains, eggs, fried cheese, fried salami, and onions sautéed in vinegar. It was also called los tres golpes, or “the three hits,” referring to the cheese, eggs, and salami. These were fatty foods, and it was a heavy dish to digest. She allowed herself to splurge when away from her regular life, knowing once she was back in D...
At the Mercy of Your Choices
For the longest time, when I thought about who I was, I could only see you. When asked what I wanted, I would turn to ask you. Sometimes, I still do. I wouldn’t be where I am without you, and for that I am grateful, but those ties that once bound us have frayed and snapped and will never be what they were. I was your obsession, even before I had a heartbeat. My existence was pre-plotted by you—you who consulted the calendar and mapped your cycles like stars in the sky, then aligned those nights for bodies to collide, and the seed of me took root within the shadowed depths of your womb. From th...