(and yes, again I have to piddle while I'm updating. What? trend? o.0)


Drive on a Frosty MorningSix-Thirty Seven a.m. the sun crested over the horizon and the first rays of pale light shot through the window.Drive on a Frosty Morning
If I had not heard and seen the glass break myself, I would have thought the white light had pierced my chest.
Inside that cold room snow blew in through the hole in the window, and when you started there started a fire in my chest.
Flaring up as if I were stuffed with dry newspaper.
Floor.
You moved to slide under the bed.
As my lips twitched to snarl the front door blew open.
Wood splinter spray.
A boot, presumably attac


TeardropIt was raining softly. We were shut up inside the motel room, pacing, making polite conversation. I watched you step into the moonlight, which at once seemed too white and too bright. It sucked the life from the room, leaving a frosty film over everything. Skin glowing, dust dancing around in your wake, I'm transfixed.Teardrop
Old wood under foot, it creaked as you passed by. I remained in my corner, enveloped by my shadows but open to conversation. No words passed by, and the glint off the lens of your glasses flashes off the fake old gold frame of the painting of a farm with a red barn and yellow flowers, smothered by deep shadows. Oh
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I wonder what will be on my mind today?
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Write on me...
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