THE SICKNESS OF OTHERS
I am writing this
as white as the pith of an orange.
Is she okay?
Her face is as red and sweaty… 354 more words
THE SICKNESS OF OTHERS
I am writing this
as white as the pith of an orange.
Is she okay?
Her face is as red and sweaty… 354 more words
“‘What’s the matter?” I said. ‘Seen a ghost?’
‘Well, you know,’ he said slowly, ‘I’m not at all sure that I haven’t.’” -Outlander
Confession time: do you believe in ghosts? 1,492 more words
Apples
Your indulgences to me are never-ending.
Like when you rinse the apple’s skin
before bestowing the fruit.
You don’t want me picking up germs. 203 more words
This is a poem by John Grey.
A white farmhouse well back from the road:
a large grey dog dozes on a long wooden veranda… 135 more words
My Lack of Reach
That last night,
there was nothing about me
able to inspire.
She was asleep,
unknowing how much I was against war… 247 more words
THE COUPLE
Pony-tailed, bearded,
tattoos riding both arms,
his vision of driving big rigs
from coast to coast
has mutated into the reality
of pushing a lawn-mower… 135 more words
His too-emphatic asking her to stay the night
hurried their relationship quicker than expected,
and now it’s his apartment and he’s still in bed… 670 more words