/lit/ - Literature

>Could you help me out? I enjoy writing stories, and I was
>hoping I could put one here (a part of it anyways, and you
>could tell me what you think, keep in mind I've been
>working on this one for about 2 hours):

“I now fully regret my decision I made that day, but it is my responsibility, I chose this, I will own it, and I will use it to kill you!” Dave said.
The man simply replied, “You can try.” Then he was gone, and Dave was left alone...again.

The Beginning
I
In the beginning Dave was a simple man, a recent college dropout, business major, he didn't have anything going for him, and when his grades dropped and the scholarships stopped coming he had nothing else to do but leave. He went home for a while but that wasn't any better, dead beat parents and no friends wasn't much incentive to stay. He left for the West, like every other kid who thinks there is something there for him, using what was left of his savings he was able to get to California, and there he found a job in a small bookstore, not rich but well off enough for himself, he was never good at making friends. And he always preferred the company of books to other people, and working in a book store was good enough for him to be happy.
His days were long, working from open to close four days a week, the store was only open six in a week, it worked for him, it was rather easy, working the register, sweeping the floor, basically whatever needed to be done, except for stocking the shelves, he hated to have to stock the shelves, he was too small to lift heavy boxes full of books, He was tall around six-two, but he was still really small, but he only weighed 140 pounds. The boxes were heavy, and he struggled with them, bringing them from the back to the front and then having to shelve them. But he needed the job, and he knew that it wouldn't be long until he was able to carry the boxes with little to no trouble.
>any help is very much so appreciated!
>Just wanting some pointers, and your opinions?

I love Dorothy Parker.

Threnody is my favorite Poem.
Lilacs blossom just as sweet
Now my heart is shattered.
If I bowled it down the street,
Who's to say it mattered?
If there's one that rode away
What would I be missing?
Lips that taste of tears, they say,
Are the best for kissing.

Eyes that watch the morning star
Seem a little brighter;
Arms held out to darkness are
Usually whiter.
Shall I bar the strolling guest,
Bind my brow with willow,
When, they say, the empty breast
Is the softer pillow?

That a heart falls tinkling down,
Never think it ceases.
Every likely lad in town
Gathers up the pieces.
If there's one gone whistling by
Would I let it grieve me?
Let him wonder if I lie;
Let him half believe me.