First thing she said was “hi,
“don’t tell me you love me”
then
“you should have kissed me by now.”
He smiled
and knew she meant to be
dramatic
nervous
irritated with morning traffic
and talk radio,
he knew
she would be forever
imprinted in his memory.
She didn’t have to say
a word
enough of fucking words already, he thought
“just don’t talk”
he said
and opened up his arms
like an old friend
she hadn’t seen
in years.
Photo by bird.ee on Instagram
For everything notebooks / journal reviews
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for
open your mind to a growth mindset and new perspectives
Love can be a business of prayer, Mercy a business of rebellion. Poetry should strive to be both.
Queenoqueer
Poetry, Positivity, and Connecting!
My Personal Space On The Web To Post Anything That Tickles My Fancy
There's Nothing Like Being Yourself...
No Fear, Express dear
Barcelona's Multiverse | Art | Culture | Science
This is a space for me to write, share my words and play with poetry. You are very welcome here.
Promoting mindful mental health for creatives from Heartfelt Creativity Coaching and Katie Moran
Your Place for Beta Readers
Rachel Rueben: The Publishing Blogger
Official website for Contemporary YA author, Allyson Kennedy
Helping Indie Authors find their Inner Magic.
Autism, Depression, and Chronic Pain - Oh My!
A glimpse into the mind of a half mad poet
I love this, Christina. So good. ♡
LikeLiked by 1 person
found it in a notebook thank you x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice work. You found this in a notebook. You probably throw away stuff that others would cling to as their gems.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I never throw away my notebooks, they’re piled up in my closet, in chests, under clothes, secret stash! I told my husband he has to bury me with them (dead serious) lol.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Said the same to my wife. Bury me with all my work. They are a part of us. Weird aren’t we?
LikeLiked by 1 person
definitely odd
LikeLiked by 1 person
lol
LikeLike