I wanted minutes
In my job I lost seconds
With dreams I stood still
How does it work?
More stories from K L and writers in Poets and other communities.
It would be easy If time was a sturdy rope Instead of white sand
By K L3 years ago in Poets
A playground, inside of a park, inside of springtime. Grass buds press through the soil like little follicles of hair pushing
By Raistlin Allen6 days ago in Poets
their tongues are busy carving a version of you that makes them feel less like a wreck. they call you cold because they could not handle your heat. they call you lost because you no longer answer to their name.
By Anuroop7 days ago in Poets
Fashion, photography, movies: put 'em in a blender, hit a button and you get something wonderful - at least, I hope so: it's what I've written here - a frappé of pop culture musings involving photogs and togs in motion pictures.
By Marie Wilson3 days ago in Geeks
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