Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie316 years 1 month ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf916 years 2 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote116 years 4 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A316 years 5 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 8 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 8 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 9 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer217 years 3 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 6 months ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 7 months ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 10 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 10 months ago

My stories

Damask rose

Damask rose how fair your beauty holds the light How fair your fragrance subdues the fears of night and how fair your lowly crimson-head Is with gallantry and passion fed.

My love

My love Air tastes plum sweeter in my lungs in my mouth after a tropical storm flowers lick deeper on yellow tongues oil and incense are in art form..? My love

Through sorrows of you

Love is a sacred red rose First you must breathe its Hot fiery scented clothes And then passion permits Unveil your hearts velvet Tear-ripped torment-soul Be thankful not to covet

The bride

Hewn from a strata of galaxies demure Inured with a witchcraft heartrendingly pure The bride wears her wedding dress like haute couture Dressed in a heavenly gown made by Channel or Dior
Cherry

Candle wax sky

Pellucid blue-eyes, whoever told you to-be-wise whoever told you, you could dream, beyond those? Monolithic, moonlit, midnight skies to drink the midnight curtain of sleep into waking hours

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