Beeme
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Singing Lark | awsamy | 5 | 15 years 2 months ago |
| Story | Silence | Beeme | 15 | 15 years 2 months ago |
| Story | Now She is Six... | Silver Spun Sand | 26 | 15 years 2 months ago |
| Story | FOREVER SHALL EVER LOVE BE..... | pinda | 4 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Circus Girl | pinda | 3 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | The Sickness of Man (a letter of forgiveness) | awsamy | 2 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Kissing you | awsamy | 4 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Maputo | mattstreatham | 4 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | From Me to You | JoseHdz | 12 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | That's Enough | pinda | 4 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Prayer | Beeme | 11 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | I Have Come To The Borders Of Sleep | awsamy | 1 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Light | Beeme | 5 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Dignity | seashore | 24 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | "Darkest Before Dawn" (I.P.) | Silver Spun Sand | 26 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Feeling | Beeme | 6 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Run | Beeme | 3 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | I | Beeme | 8 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Soul making | fromagreenhill | 2 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Cold Light of Reflection | L G Meadows | 1 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Haunting | Beeme | 3 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Wires | Beeme | 10 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Gymnopédie (I.P.) | Silver Spun Sand | 15 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Minutiae | Silver Spun Sand | 14 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | The Merry Moon | awsamy | 3 | 15 years 3 months ago |
My stories
Lullaby
"She says there are no criteria for love; just don’t let me pass alone in a silent corridor. Death sweeping through the air to find her body still and soundly sleeping-"
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- 20 comments
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- 7383 reads
Spend my days writing remedies
"I keep a pen and paper near because I don’t have you and maybe that doesn’t mean anything. Or perhaps I’m just to reluctant to let go,"
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- 13 comments
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- 3589 reads
Running
when I’m going away- I fold myself onto trains slotting my luggage between gaps- that seem to shrink as I touch them. I think about you and glance between the carriages.
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- 9 comments
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- 2636 reads
Wish bone for change
You travel for two hours because you feel that you should- It is not only the ticket you pay for but the price of morality. And your bones rattle on the train-
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- 7 comments
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- 2459 reads
Shaking
I want to take you away; to peel back the layers of sweat. Erase the sting of heroine; drain the poison. And if my blood was ink I’d never stop writing.
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- 4 comments
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- 1678 reads