"Oh, won’t you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?"
No longer human
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Category: Writing and Poetry
Kissing her is like coming home after I’ve been standing in the cold rain. It’s like freshly made apple pie, steaming still, and I’m starving when there’s nothing else to eat. Like reading a book and falling in love with the words spilled over the page. It’s the story laid out, anticipation and build up only to reach the climax and fall back softly. It’s the certainty— the chilling satisfaction—of... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
On her deathbed, young and filled with ache, Eighteen years old, with nothing left to stake. Her world is a quiet, desolate room, Where even hope seems buried in gloom. The walls are barren, the air is still, Her breaths come short, and time stands still. She peers through shadows at a life not lived, An empty heart, with nothing left to give. No comfort in the cold and lonely space, » Continue Reading
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