narcissa

Primary tabs

TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryHow could you&;#063;* narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryI never cry narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryGlass Heart narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryInsomnia narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFrom the fourteenth floor narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryDevelopment narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFirewalk narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryE: 17/8/04 narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryField Pylons narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryDressing up narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryDrizzle narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFootfall narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryDivision narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFathomless narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryExample narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFor tomorrow narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFarewell narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryEmotional Intensity, Mild narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFifteen Years narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryEnglish Class narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryEmpire of the Sun narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFive senses day narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryDidn't narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryForget narcissa012 years 7 months ago
StoryFor Julian* narcissa012 years 7 months ago

My stories

Ophelia

She is lucky to drown I dip my head below water, test the depths of my own madness (not yet so true) Time heals, it is said, but how can it, when every day the hairline crack in my heart gets a little wider (I am splitting in two) I have been filled and am overflowing. She suffered, not because of unrequited love, it was seeded deep before that. Her father and brother, whose contradicting sameness held together like a flood which crept into her shell-of-an-ear and poisoned her inwardly out. Ophelia, you are my muse, who sits sorrowfully on the window ledge, sandaled feet swinging slowly, thoughtful, her toes dripping water onto my blue carpet.

O: Sideways poem

A man once tilted his head to the side, sitting on the subway, until the train was travelling vertically. He wondered why nobody was falling into him...

R

When the purple pages run out I will begin the blank book you gave me for my birthday. And it will be as if I am writing on you tattoo you with words...

New this*

This is contentment, here - in your arms - it doesn't fit intoa category. The sinking in the pit of your stomach? Push it away, pretend it isn't...

Slides

I see them too Pride of place on the mantlepiece of memory (so to speak) Those memories, fond, make us look forward But are we then disappointed? I...

Pages