holding hands

44 posts1, 2, 3
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FIFTEEN
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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SIXTEEN
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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SEVENTEEN
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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EIGHTEEN
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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NINETEEN
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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TWENTY
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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TWENTY-ONE
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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TWENTY-TWO
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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TWENTY-THREE
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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TWENTY-FOUR
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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Sound, I think I'm just now having a chance to read through your NaPo thread additions and you have some really wonderful pieces here. I'm especially a fan of seven, ten, sixteen, nineteen, twenty-three and twenty-four! Even some of those short ones really pack a punch. You are really good at taking a very specific feeling and describing it in an original/imaginative way. And there are just some great lines all around - like the idea of dna circling around the universe, or pinching your nose to drown out the sound of rain!

Thanks for sharing your poetry! I'm excited to continue following what you write. :)
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return




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@alliyah omg! thanks so much!! <3 <3 I'm glad you like some of the stuff, haha
Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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Gender Female
Points 8344
Reviews 195
TWENTY-FIVE
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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Points 8344
Reviews 195
TWENTY-SIX
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Pants are an illusion. And so is death.




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Oooh, that's so pretty! It's light and free and the formattting is perfect. I love. <3
On earth I long to be like Him



I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights