camus

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryShelved. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryOliver camus012 years 9 months ago
StorySensing. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Woman From Number Twelve. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryReverie. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryHidden. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryGarden Of Stone. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryDrifted. camus012 years 9 months ago
StoryDiscover Me. camus012 years 9 months ago
Forum topicRandom Story Laura Callender2214 years 6 months ago
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Forum topicHow did we do it? tcook1316 years 12 months ago
Forum topicI gone got me book published Brooklands3019 years 2 months ago
Forum topicWhy? styx1819 years 4 months ago
Forum topicBanal thing Mk II cath_carr16219 years 4 months ago
Forum topic200 Words - What's The Point? ggggareth2519 years 4 months ago
Forum topicB.A.S cath_carr4819 years 4 months ago
Forum topicNaughty steps, desertscapes, and self help on telly galfreda4819 years 5 months ago
Forum topicPlays to Film 2Lou1719 years 5 months ago
Forum topicBlimey, it's quiet round here... markbrown1619 years 5 months ago
Forum topicIntroduce Yourself markbrown2319 years 5 months ago
Forum topicWeird Voyage Loveward seannelson2619 years 6 months ago
Forum topicSloooooooooooooe Gin ivoryfishbone1619 years 6 months ago
Forum topicCongratulations all round tcook1519 years 6 months ago
Forum topicRichard Hammond - Top Gear stormy_petrel2319 years 6 months ago

My stories

Shelved.

You sit on a shelf, At the back of my mind. In a secret place, Where I can take you out, Now and then, And peruse you at my leisure. I've tried to make it cosy, With a blanket, a squishy, soft pillow,

Oliver

My delicate child, So ill, yet again. Twelve years of life, Spent fighting, for breath. Your sun-tinted chest, With the chocolate brown mole, above Your top, right hand rib, Raises, ever higher,

Debris.

I study from afar, Safe, protected Behind the mask, That shields my eyes. As I covet The tiniest movement, Slightest twitch, That he makes. I focus, Determined, not To miss a thing Or let him know
Cherry

Sensing.

As you breathe I almost hear you. When you sigh It's audible too. When your pulse throbs steadily As you sleep, So it becomes me. I see your arms Thrown wide, Your scent unconfined

Drifted.

Dead to him now He holds but a shell, A brittle, cracked mollusc Abandoned, outgrown. Denim and silk Surround candy striped clay Cast, By long ago hands Which feathered the flesh, In artisan sweeps

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