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
A topnotch WordPress.com site
Home is where the heART is. Life expressed through art in my hometown of Reno, Nevada.
Where Imagination Makes The Impossible Possible
Warrior Voices of Survival
A digital space feat. poetry, art, nonfiction, interviews, and reviews by marginalized creators.
He'll Have None Of That
The Life of a Twenty-Something Poet & Novelist...
Book reviews and other literary-related musings
Even if it takes me not nine but nine hundred lives -Susan ashwoth
Denver, CO
"If I don’t read, I get lonely. If I don’t write, I forget who I am."
Dedicated to the discovery, cultivation and presentation of contemporary literature and the arts.
A glimpse from the heights.
Epic reads
Speak from your heart
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