Photo by Jon Butterworth on Unsplash
I have hauled the silt
from the cracks of many bones
and they taste like time.
About the Creator
Ev Kitson
“In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?”
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.