wicked
You said I smelt like a rose
you plucked my petals
one by one
slowly whispering
she loves me
she loves me not
my legs were spread wide
like the ocean
and you drowned in my waters.
The smell of burn toast
brought me to my senses
and the memory of a rose garden
between my legs
was long forgotten.
a literary journal from the MFA of the Americas
Cogito Ergo Sum. ["I think Therefore I am"]
A poetry e-zine
The Undergraduate Art and Literary Journal of Georgia State University
literary magazine
Writer of poetry, prose, and creative nonfiction.
Possibilities of connections and a sense of belonging.
The key is to always continue... ©️
I want to share globally my literal mentality and attempt to adjust your moral compass!
First person stories: putting people first.
A mix of manic episodes, depressive tears and suicidal triumphs to fill your mind and inspire your spirit.
confessional, surreal, romantic.
/ˈōlēō/: a miscellaneous collection of things.
Fine art, abstract art, contemporary art.
Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. Anton Chekhov #writing, #poetry, #quotes, #prose #etc
worlding is a human right
3 Stories of Sonnets by Kristin Garth
A place for me to create short stories, characters and more
” the smell of burnt toast ” ….and roses , so wickedly bewitching . Love you Chrissy ! megxxx
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and so true to life. xx thank you Meg! sending you love xxx
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You left me speechless. You don’t write any clunkers. Another amazing poem with such erotic imagery. This was freakin’ hot. Love your work.
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thank you x
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https://thelighteningandthefire.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/mystify-me/
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inxs mystify me – fuck I’m too old for this shit
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