Cold sends me to sleep.
Duvet traps a small sun here.
Sweat wakes me from cold.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
We trade our minds for mirrors that are not our own. They glimmer with a false and tempting sea. When fear invites another voice to claim our own.
By Test3 months ago in Poets
patience pushing through provocation and pain with poise passively plastered on unperturbed faces papering over the cracks formed
By ali8 days ago in Poets
Noisy students here Waiting calmly for quiet Now I can teach them
By Reb Kreyling2 days ago in Poets
It's Mothers' Day (Mother's Day? Mothering Sunday?) tomorrow here in Britain. I am going out for lunch and may have to dress up. I am looking forward to it. There is an expectation of gifts too. Who doesn't like a gift?
By Rachel Deeming4 days ago in Viva
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