Tall, everlasting,
impossible to destroy,
it stood there in us.
How does it work?
Impossible to destroy, that is me.
Incredible! It hurts to even think it!
More stories from Valerie Racine and writers in Poets and other communities.
Where have you gone? Vanishing without a trace. Smothered whole.
By Valerie Racine3 years ago in Poets
It’s a wet green chill As the dew witnesses a fragile season down the hill Stamping the ground, a foggy mist spills, And anchoring around its bend, and threading thro’ the glades,
By Madhu Goteti 2 days ago in Poets
The Voodoo Doll Of Love I never meant to stitch your name into mine, or thread my breath through the shape of your sigh. This heart learned the pattern before I agreed,
By Marie381Uk 5 days ago in Poets
The train stop lives in the heart of the city—a city whose name I don’t care to recall, as it does not care to recall me. There is a chill in the air, not consequential of the gentle breeze, but something more of a sensation, like goose bumps felt within.
By Belle8 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Impossible to destroy, that is me.
Incredible! It hurts to even think it!