Solace glides in.
Stains of, belladonna nights,
are finally inked.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Gouri Prakash and writers in Poets and other communities.
Prussian blue twilight, Just like, when you and I lost, Us, star-crossed lovers
By Gouri Prakash3 years ago in Poets
I held it in my hands Tightly squeezing my grip so it would not get out I could feel it struggle as the light that fed it disappeared
By G. A. Botero7 days ago in Poets
You don't like what I eat, Or, My weight. You hate my attitude, Thank you very much, I'd say it creates my solitude!
By Carol Ann Townendabout 10 hours ago in Poets
From our bedroom upstairs, my husband drops something heavy on the floor, forcing my attention away from the laptop screen.
By Kera Hollow6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.