poet and fiction writer. currently using this platform to fall back in love with writing.
the year our love grew, home came in the form of you, past me never knew.
By ashley haleabout a year ago in Poets
your touch melted me, loving you set me on fire. you left me burning.
It feels like a Sunday, lethargic and honey sweet, as I sit among the dead. Suddenly, she appears, out of place, holding an old television that doubles as a door.
When we live on Mars, people throw cows, as a sport. I hold the record.
