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M.L. Rio

M.L. Rio

  • MaryLu Rios
    MaryLu Riosciteerde uit2 jaar geleden
    My eyes flicked from one of his to the other. Gray like steel, gold like honey.
  • MaryLu Riosciteerde uit2 jaar geleden
    He stared up at me for a moment, then lifted his head and pulled me down to meet him. It was almost a brotherly kiss, but not quite. Too fragile, too painful. Soft whispers of surprise and confusion swept through the audience. My heart throbbed, and it hurt so badly that I bit his lip. I felt his breath catch and let him go, lowered him to the floor again. Silence lingered overlong. Whatever Camilo’s line was, he had forgotten it, and so I spoke out of turn. “List a brief tale; / And when ’tis told, O that my heart would burst!”
  • MaryLu Riosciteerde uit2 jaar geleden
    It was just a kiss, but God, it hurt like hell
  • Lanaciteerde uitvorig jaar
    One sin, I know, another doth provoke;

    Murder’s as near to lust as flame to smoke
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    His fingers drum restlessly on the table. “Tell me something,” he says. “Do you ever lie in your cell, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you wound up in here, and you can’t sleep because you can’t stop thinking about that day?”

    “Every night,” I say, without sarcasm.
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    Richard: “Hatred is the sincerest form of flattery.”

    Alexander: “That’s imitation, dickhead.”
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    Actors are by nature volatile—alchemic creatures composed of incendiary elements, emotion and ego and envy. Heat them up, stir them together, and sometimes you get gold. Sometimes disaster.
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    “I thought they would have beaten that bullshit out of you in prison.”

    “That bullshit is all that kept me going.” One thing I’m sure Colborne will never understand is that I need language to live, like food—lexemes and morphemes and morsels of meaning nourish me with the knowledge that, yes, there is a word for this. Someone else has felt it before.

    “Why don’t you just tell me what happened? No performance. No poetics.”

    “For us, everything was a performance.” A small, private smile catches me off guard and I glance down, hoping he won’t see it. “Everything poetic.”
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    The moral outrage we should have suffered was quietly put down, suppressed like an unpleasant rumor before it had a chance to be heard. Whatever we did—or, more crucially, did not do—it seemed that so long as we did it together, our individual sins might be abated. There is no comfort like complicity.
  • Snowciteerde uitvorig jaar
    I desperately wanted to, but my mind was blank. For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me.
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