Looking Up
Looking Up mustache stories
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kzachar1
kzachar1 ooh that’s a God idea, lemme write that
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
I don't want to remember his face. But I do.

Looking Up

I don't want to remember his face.

But I do.

Mom said that I'm allowed to cry

No matter what people say

And although he makes people cry on a daily

Not me.

At least not on the outside.

When I stare

In his eyes

My lungs are sobbing

For my sisters

For my Mom.

His eyes

Erupting

Erupting in

Erupting in accusations

Searing my forehead

With the

Labels

That I promptly peel off when his back is turned.

I can't believe I used to look up to him

And play with his mustache

I thought it was the coolest thing

Bushy, furry, like an innocent kitten nestling between his nose and laughing mouth

I can't believe my mom used to fall in love with him

Because of his mustache

She used to say it tickled her all over whenever he kissed her

I can't believe my sisters wanted a guy

Who had a mustache

Just like his

All I see now

Is the greasy food that he tears apart On his furrowing, questioning mustache

As he glares back at me.

That mustache.

I wish I could just tear it off in one swoop.

Maybe then it will reveal the jack ass that seems to be hidden Behind that fur

That he uses to capture all the ladies.

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