Avid writer, poet • St. Louis based
I embodied silk, black sheets, but you were nothing but bleach; staining my soul and eradicating my thread count until I was no longer recognizable—until I was a simple rag, fraying and falling apart in your hands a little more every day.
By Miranda (Randy) Kristine6 years ago in Poets
My tired eyes felt as if they hadn’t gazed upon the kiss of sunlight in years, and I began to wonder if the sun had ever been there at all—maybe it had never existed in my world in the first place.