Lydia > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Meet me at the north bend up in the foothills we will go down low to the banks of the river past the wire fences and no trespassing signs Let'..

Drinking the bottom of yesterday morning's pot of coffee The morning after meeting the bottom of several bottles Time and space are just sugges..

The furnace doesn't work but our house is still burning down "This is fine," we say calmly to ourselves We dare not let the other hear our voi..

Everything starts small but lately I feel like I haven't grown at all Tiny clumps of bright green moss line my windowsill I imagine they are taun..

I, like chaos, cannot control myself Stagnant for so long and suddenly I am the swell of tides against every rocky shore and in every fabled stor..

Anger is pain pretending to be powerful My heart flutters with rage and I lose myself My voice climbing cracks I crumble Everything hurts ..

Cabbage patch kid with a face too wide fake smiling I never got the chance to speak Features unwavering It doesn't matter what I'd like to say ..

It must be so nice to turn your brain off I often wonder what that's like while I think about a million little things Overwhelmed is the word I ..

I poke and prod until the skin becomes loose until there is enough to grab by my teeth and I pull I tear the piece as far as it will go down ..

She used to take pictures before it was cool before all the girls defined themselves as amateur photographers I wonder if she still has any phot..