Citrus light flickers
sharp whispers brush the cool night
bitter blooms in breeze.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
The first winter snow arrives at 9.47 and the world seems to pause as if holding its breath. The slow drifting flakes open a doorway in memory and I return to the journals that waited in my old suitcase. Seven years fall away and I meet the voice I once carried. That voice wrote of promises and direction with a trembling certainty that surprised me even now.
By Test4 months ago in Poets
Everyone brings flowers for the dead. The flowers are dead, too. Even if they don’t know it yet. You’ll feel better once you wash your face.
By Sean5 days ago in Poets
Coffee is the best Going to sip it in bed Today can just wait
By Jesse Lee5 days ago in Poets
This story was originally published 2 years ago. In Memory of T.M. The ashes arrived in a beautiful hand-carved wooden box. When I saw it, it was displayed next to a little porcelain figurine of a mother and son elephant.
By Mezmur5 days ago in Confessions
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