A drop of salty water dances down my skin,
Containing so much of the pressure,
If it could, it would explode of all the tension within, 12 more words
Every Friday, 1 artist/poet/writer, letting 1 piece of their work speak for itself.
I remember how you started with just a simple square: four sides, each of equal length, plain white like our tablecloth. 236 more words
I, despite my furious efforts to calm myself, find that merely the utterance of your name makes my chest tighten with rapid breathing. And when we walk together, or sit beside each other, I feel your presence so entirely as if it were my own being in clarity. 295 more words