Kelsey Thompson resides in the Washington, DC area and writes about love and confidence.
The tombs take time to trace tracks to trade tears, to try. They tally, tally, tinker, twist. Tap together, tally. Their testimony tumbles temperate to the tenders.
By Kelsey Thompsonabout a year ago in Poets
His wife was a flibbertigibbet Whose blatherskite tested his limit So, flummoxed he go'ed to canoodle a toad and guffawed, "when I snog her, she ribbits!"
In rarefied air breathless stumbles of the climb define atmosphere
There's a special time of life when you're small, but you feel big You're shedding a skin, but you're horrified by what's underneath
A photon born on our sun might travel billions of light years before reaching a distant world or it might live just eight minutes before landing warm and bright on my face.
By Kelsey Thompson2 years ago in Poets
There must have been some kind of a lurch or a jolt or a bang, because Aaron was suddenly awake - hungry, wet, and reclining as best he could in the seat of a passenger train.
By Kelsey Thompson2 years ago in Fiction