colour blind.She saw him at the park once. He was the colour of dirt; with bird eyes and white, mapped palms. Her little forehead lined as she felt the bile force its way up until her saliva was acid. She counted her toes and bit the inside of her cheek, should she run? Are they fast runners? She figured this one must be if he kept himself out of jail. The dark man flashed a mouthful of pebbles and held out his hand- which would have swallowed hers.colour blind.
'Don't touch me.'
Her hands were all knuckles and her baby eyes tore into his. He faltered and stepped away, a half mouthed sorry. He looked upset, a grin spread like fire between he
TildaWhen I was six, my dad started going out with a woman called Laura. As soon as he told me about her, I decided that I wasn’t going to like her, but somehow Dad knew I had decided that and told me to give her a chance.Tilda
‘I still miss your mum,’ he said, ‘and I still love her very much, just like you do. But I love Laura as well, and it isn’t her fault your mum died, so you mustn’t take it out on her. She doesn’t want to be your mother - she only wants to be your friend. And I think you should let her try.’
It was very difficult for me t
A Death in LiteratureHe didn’t enjoy killing, or even violence in general; it disgusted him. It was something the world could do without entirely, and he wished more than anything that he could escape it. He knew, however, as we all know, one cannot escape violence in a world that lives for death. He didn’t want, in any part of him, to kill another human being. Of course, that did not mean for even a second, that he wasn’t going to do it. Purpose; generally, this is accepted as the one thing every human wants and needs. In our society, and our world, noA Death in Literature
memento mori I. Death has been standing outside my house all night.memento mori
Last night I wiped my eyes against the cool glass and I watched him out the leaves of my window; watched while he circled the perimeter, his hands dancing near my rosebushes, giving light touches to the leaves and breaking them off along the neon vein lines. I touch the patches on my face and I try to make out the lines on his body: hooknose frame, dark lidded eyes, nailed mouth. The ceiling of nighttime rushed over him like a blanket and a smile, and I fell asleep with the crook of my head against the si
--
Poems in english at: [link]
Poèmes en français [link]
Dolphins at: [link]
We are all angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing each other.
--
Be inspired: *simplyprose and *simplypoetry.
Save trees and elephants! Check out poopoopaper.com!
Previous PageNext Page