I won't let you go"I want to ride my bike towards the coast. Just...keep pedaling west until my knees collapse under me. You know?"I won't let you go
"No, not really. Why? What do you mean?"
"It's just- I don't know where I belong anymore."
"You don't belong here? This isn't your home?"
"He was my home."
heavy branchesThere once was a woman named Ms. Borowski Who never finished her cups of tea. When her apartment was completely full,heavy branches
She had to sit down and mull. And then hung those dirty cups from a tree.
when your war is overSam and Noah walked to the cemetery early in the morning. Sam loved that time right after the sun came up, when the whole world was behind a pale blue filter and everything smelled sweet. His mind was like an alarm clock, and every morning he would wake up, right then, just to breathe in the air and then fall back asleep with a smile on his face. If he was lucky, he would hear a train go by.when your war is over
They walked and walked and walked, the air delicious against their faces and inside their lungs. It was as if they had already forgotten the day before, Noah's t-shirt bunched up between Sam's white knuckles. Bloody noses and furrowed brows.
corn flakesBarry remembered the night he knew he was made for Roscoe. They were sixteen years old with a whole house to themselves. It had begun to storm outside; flashes of incredible light were followed by low, rumbling sounds. They poured cereal into two big bowls and headed to the sun room to watch the lightning through the tall windows. They stood right next to the glass walls, feeling the cold seep through the small cracks in between and bite at their toes. Barry looked to Roscoe; his face was illuminated in a bright yellow light, and then it was dark again. His eyes were opened wide. Barry smiled. "Are you afraid of lightncorn flakes
our sleeping patterns collide.i wake up tired. i wake up tired and it's afternoon again.our sleeping patterns collide.
i wake up tired and i am alone.
it's like every night i fall asleep with you on my mind. and i quickly sort through my thoughts leaving the prettiest ones on top so i can try them on in the morning. so everyday, i wake up and try on being in love with you. except every morning, it's three inches too big or a centimeter and a half too small or it's brushing my kneecaps like it's too long. but i wear it anyways, since i'm used to being a shade left of ordinary or two steps past crazy. i'm used to wearing love and i'm used to you.
i'm used to fallin
| I'm interested in the wonderful (miniscule) curiosities of daily life, the psychological effects of gruesome diseases...collapsing worlds, family dynamics, weird little love stories. To me, life happens in between the grand sunsets and romantic gestures- it’s awkward silences, fleeting thoughts, arched brows, warm hands. I don’t want my characters to be beautiful in every way. I want imperfection, quirk, and silliness. I want to try to be honest. And if my words fall short of that, I want to keep trying. |
why aren't you moving at all?
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Be inspired: *simplyprose and *simplypoetry.
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I'm looking forward to participating.
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Outside, the cars are beeping
out a song just in your honor.
And though they do not know it,
all mankind are now your brothers.
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hmmm....
Keep up the great work!
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Outside, the cars are beeping
out a song just in your honor.
And though they do not know it,
all mankind are now your brothers.
--
=inspyretash-stock Decorative & Vintage Resources
To inspyré and to Be inspyréd...
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