An artist, graphic designer, creative human, and secret Margaret.
Palms pressed to woven blankets under folded legs bleeding warmth from sun and hand and feet. Fairytale, cerulean blue skies grazed by rolling clouds.
By Grace Downey2 years ago in Poets
I took off work for an appointment, today. Dropped myself off at the shop. Something isn’t working right. Not quite sure.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I have woken up confused, in strange locations, and bare-ass naked too many times in my life. At this point, I’m not even shocked.
By Grace Downey2 years ago in Fiction
think back to the month of March remember smiles in the air? resounding cheer, glee overarch praising women everywhere sweet soiree
“I support you,” you jeered amplified, ensuring we heard we heard. for how would you feel good if no one knew. what a
come close, bend down I’ve a secret to tell the answer to life lies here, my dear if you read between the lines -
I am the Master of my mind am I not? I demand– move we move. I urge jump
“Close your eyes.” I obey and the world blinks out. Anticipation jolts through me as I fight to be still, to be patient.