we haven't spoken for days.
there were tears in my soup.
you slept with the pastor's wife.
i discovered the baby inside me.
there was a phone call at 2 am.
we haven't spoken.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"Listen to me. All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. And there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake." -Jean Rhys
Inspirations
- fear
- what I thought I heard
- between asleep and awake
- a honey bee
No comments:
Post a Comment