MistakenMagic

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryRambutan - IP Response Dynamaso1414 years 2 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 12 rjnewlyn814 years 2 months ago
StoryGeneral Knowledge (I.P.) Silver Spun Sand2314 years 2 months ago
StoryI Want to Taste Your Lips Tonight threeleafshamrock214 years 2 months ago
StoryIf by Chance! skinner_jennifer1014 years 2 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 11 rjnewlyn1114 years 2 months ago
StoryI'd Die for a Cherry... (I.P.) Silver Spun Sand2014 years 2 months ago
StoryButtons mikepyro414 years 2 months ago
StoryFear Beeme814 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Candidate luigi_pagano1014 years 3 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 10 rjnewlyn1214 years 3 months ago
StoryNarcissus and Goldberg barryj11014 years 3 months ago
StoryYou Know How It Is... Silver Spun Sand2114 years 3 months ago
StoryHarmonics littleditty1214 years 3 months ago
StoryRecover Beeme1214 years 3 months ago
StorySomething in the Air Silver Spun Sand2514 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Herb Gatherer's Disciple barryj12014 years 3 months ago
StoryIf you meet me, have some sympathy 9 rjnewlyn1314 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Curse of the Unread Story kheldar1714 years 3 months ago
StoryRising Five Silver Spun Sand1514 years 3 months ago
StorySeafaring Phantom skinner_jennifer1714 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Sloth and the Moth beaste314 years 3 months ago
StoryFading Beeme214 years 3 months ago
Storymusic song Kahdai314 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Widow Next Door Silver Spun Sand1814 years 3 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Flashbacks

When I was two my Mum paraded me along the canal Where the emerald-headed mallards gossiped amongst the bull rushes.
Cherry

The Poet Who Fell in Love

It’s taken us a long time to get here. And I’m scared it will take me longer to get back. Your arm sways at my side like a rusty swing. Our fingers touch but can’t seem to attach.

The Day the Poetry Stopped

At fourteen you made me Believe in true love. A chance meeting, Bodies brush like the tide.

The Condemned

And you were the north - everything pointed to you. All my heart had to do was follow the signs.

Anything to Forget

I wander into my father's tool shed. My fingers twitch for a hammer To smash at my temples so that the memories May drip from my ear that witnessed His whispers, his promises.

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