The deep of your blue
Recklessly I dove and drowned
Before the third wave
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Jolyne and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comfort as freedom Freedom in the fluidity of an identity The liberty in oneβs body The freedom of movement The liberty of being oneself
By Jolyne4 years ago in Poets
Whatβs wrong with a song or poem with rhyme? I find my mind pondering, wandering, wondering much of the time. Unbelievably, inconceivablyβ¦ to some, rhyme is worse than slime or grime!
By Angie the Archivist ππͺΆ4 days ago in Poets
There is a stranger within me, not one who arrived suddenly, but one who grew in the quiet spaces I neglected. They carry a heavy soul,
By πππ°π³πͺπ’ ππ¦π―π¦ππ°π±π¦a day ago in Poets
My annus horribilis Rushing to get my six-and-a-half-year-old daughter ready, I grabbed our coats; we were meeting a friend and her thirteen-year-old twins for a lunch and cinema date.
By Chantal Christieabout 19 hours ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.