Thank God for Ms. Nicholson and her Guardian poetry workshops. I've been browsing through those this week, and I've done a whole bunch of them. Hopefully I can pull off one a day.


sivvy.once, i held your hands up to the light to see what kind of shadow it would cast across my face. your wax-paper skin flaked in the heat, let the sun cast rays warm into my eyes. i blinked, and in a momentsivvy.
you had melted entirely, existed merely as droplets of wax flowing quickly to my feet. you molded yourself around the soles of my shoes. i recalled a day when you and i stood leaning against the stone gray wall of the church. we watched the bees fly from petal to petal, waited for the sky to ignite into its pinks and yellows that could perhaps cast us


great.It took three hours and fifty-two minutes for you to die.great.
Not that I was counting -- I had more important things to attend to. The eight Hershey's kisses that scattered along the floorboard of the old Corolla when my mother slammed on the brakes, the three children's magazines fanned out on the table of the waiting room, the four grown adults huddling around your bed, sobbing. I didn't even have time to learn that it's cliché to say that nature reflects experience when it started to snow outside.
It all started going downhill around six pm:
--
----
[...a secret was concealed.]
it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands!
it s t r e t c h e d for centuries to a diary entry's end;
where i wrote:
you make me happy when skies are grey.
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"Tout ce qui existe dans l'univers est le fruit du hasard et de la nécessité." - Démocrite.
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swaggaaaa
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Je suis vivant si je suis libre.
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Un jour, j'ai vu le soleil se coucher quarante-quatre fois! ... Tu sais...quand on est tellement triste on aime les couchers de soleil...
Le jour des quarante-quatre fois tu étais donc tellement triste?
Mais le petit prince ne ré
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*RetroRocket-club *indiephotographyclub *VintageRepublik
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