Our love is like a little Jenny wren
Call me she said; call me to bed And say that our love isn’t dead. “So I called her—softly. And I said. Come—lay dear” where we wed.
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- 785 reads
Damien angel
Is there seated a Damien angel? About my shoulders or nape, contour. Must he be so petulantly-pushy? As to sadly knock me to the floor Will he be my only advocate?
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- 1004 reads
Dear Detective Lovett
She said something before she died...
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- 8 comments
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- 2999 reads
Heroin
My tears rolling down his face; I cried for him.
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- 7 comments
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- 2030 reads
The Little Tea Pot
I am a little tea pot, I have a little spout, Daddy stirs me up, And Mammy pours me out. Standing here beside me, The milky jug and sugar, On the checky table-cloth,
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- 2820 reads
Chapter Four- Annamillie and Adelphie
When I awoke, I lay in Cavell's bed all alone. Neither Cavell or Caolan were in sight. I sat up slowly, pushing the thick blankets off me, and got out of bed.
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- 1298 reads
The Spider
Though February fog is quite depressing, A spider's web is very refreshing. For sparkling like diamonds Are drops of rain, Caught in wefts of gossamer grain. The web is crafted
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Gorge myself on you
Ooooh, a bit of naughtiness!!!
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- 5245 reads
Love Is.....
Love is this. Love is the end and the beginning Of our story, our memories, That we should write down and Never will.
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- 886 reads