Winter bit my toes
Ankle sighs into warm plush
Slippers cradle me.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
To feel at ease, practise being alone. Keep rooms spare and mornings free of noise. Let trust arrive softly, awkward and grown.
By Test2 months 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 21 hours ago in Poets
An agent confused; An unwitting hacker finds The raw Epstein Files.
By Bryan Pike2 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
Comments (1)