Tags » Prose 2

Our Story

There we were. Round table, three chairs. Every month we’d be there – the same lonely café. I didn’t like the place for obvious reasons; this was after all, your neighborhood. 1,035 more words

Un-Numbered Days


Man: Why do you smile like that?
You should have a small smile
You know you do not have a nice dentition.

Lady: Okay sir… 127 more words



Only a mirror could hold all her beauty. Nothing lit by any dawn, no rosy tip upon any city street. What drab shore, what dismal tide if not her there. 13 more words


Growing old

“Grow old with me, the best is yet to be. The last of life, for which the first was made” Lines by Robert Browning.

We all may have come across these lines in our life. 144 more words


I’ve been trying to love myself. Showers after work to lull me to sleep. Washing my hair to remind myself that although my beauty is skin deep, sometimes it doesn’t hurt to look pretty on the outside. 223 more words


// 2:11 a.m.

I can’t sleep.
Am I tired? Sometimes it feels like I’ve been tired for an eternity, and sometimes there’s such an intense fire building up inside me that it engulfs all of my exhaustion. 104 more words



windows down

my roots wandering through the mountain peaks

searching for nothing but

a home in a heart

the road goes on and on

and I wonder how far it’ll take me the next time around, 58 more words

Creative Writing