The deck was upright
My hand pulled out queen of cups
Wisdom turned me blue
How does it work?
More stories from K L and writers in Poets and other communities.
On a velvet couch My willowy thoughts were ghosts The notes spilled blue ink
By K L3 years ago in Poets
Something sits at the end of my tongue. A memory that is unable to form into words. A distant train bellows with the same frustration that pollutes the whites of my eyes.
By Amanda Abelaabout 11 hours ago in Poets
The things we would say, fear we might, think we should say... Our words mean nothing.
By Madison "Maddy" Newton7 days ago in Poets
This story was originally published 2 years ago. In Memory of T.M. The ashes arrived in a beautiful hand-carved wooden box. When I saw it, it was displayed next to a little porcelain figurine of a mother and son elephant.
By Mezmur5 days ago in Confessions
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