Kristina Moulaison > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

thatpassionis a whispernot a gongI know too welleven as I have screamed itnakedto the windstifling its true bloomcovering my blushwith silent ret..

Some days I wake, words spilling over a fountain into a restless pond that will dissipate at daybreak like drifting fog. Words cling like d..

You are a book hinged at the middle and laid open so I can reach my hands into your rooms, grabbing hold of each character, moving pieces t..

I am lacking infrastructure there are promises, so plump, bordering onanembarrassing abundance of riches... potential dripping from every or..

Imagining change, burning our boats.

I cannot help but curl my lips in disgust, flinching at my own keen perceptions and impeccable ability to recollect. Failure comes ready w..

The voice in my head.

Just a vivid memory.

Um...insomnia...

Feathered memories lay across her floor, her tabletops, her shelves. Every corner piled high against forgetting. I am storing my memories in ..