Standing on the knife
I hear death’s subtle whisper
Daring me to fall
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Torren Gustavsen and writers in Poets and other communities.
Like a little child I sit upon her shoulders A place of wonder
By Torren Gustavsen3 years ago in Poets
patience pushing through provocation and pain with poise passively plastered on unperturbed faces papering over the cracks formed
By ali4 days ago in Poets
Fingers touch the knob, A click, and then the blue flame, Metal expands, pop.
By Edward Smith3 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 Mezmur6 days ago in Confessions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.