Stillness after war—hope hums low beneath the skin,dreams wait to be sung.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
Baby locs are here, tiny naps with grand ambition— crowned in coil couture.
By Test12 months ago in Poets
I would die for you But what would that avail me? May I live for you? A thief in the night You bypassed all my safeguards
By Andrew C McDonald4 days ago in Poets
Fuck! What I write can’t come out now, can’t come out from my brain now, it’s insane how it works now, like, like, like, when I’m in a good place now,
By Jess Boyes3 days ago in Poets
It could have been the perfect summer day. The hot July sun warmed the water in the backyard pool just enough to be comfortable and refreshing. The laughter of the five little girls echoed against the splashing water as they chased each other in a classic game of Marco Polo. The game distracted them enough that they failed to notice the dipping sun nearing the horizon. Their fingers and toes had long ago turned wrinkly like raisins, but none wondered why they had been left to play so long today.
By A. J. Schoenfeld6 days ago in Fiction
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