All ours, as if gods
we were immortal. Now time,
runs, fatally, stops.
IG: @thisluizaaraujo
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Luiza Araujo and writers in Poets and other communities.
Oh I remember Summer in November When bogeymen could be fought Later We sat out Dirty ground Old friend New love Just found
By Luiza Araujo3 years ago in Poets
Even now, I think about your vulnerable waxing, clinging to us with a bold strobe-light, spotlight, nestling your tragedies
By Mackenzie Davis4 days ago in Poets
Exhales of cold mist, float above the ashes of a broken palace Crows in black clothes, feed on the sadness of a lost promise
By The Invisible Writer2 days ago in Poets
[A story told to me over a decade ago by a Colombian immigrant, that I've attempted to put into writing. Any suggestions on how to improve this are very welcome.]
By Scott Christenson6 days ago in Interview
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.