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Literature
Six Word Story
my mother kept smiles in bottles
Literature
2: the first question
The first thing I noticed was the fez on her lap. I saw it as I scanned the tube for empty seats; a flash of red in the corner of my eye. It perched delicately on her thighs like a small, unassuming puppy that stared at passerby with large eyes, silently daring them to challenge its right to be there. I gaped at it; the train started forward with a jerk and I had to grab onto the metal pole in front of me to keep my balance. The ungainly motion of my body lurching forward caught the eye of the fez's owner; I saw her look up at me quickly, then duck her eyes down to her hands, which were diminutive and pale and folded neatly in her lap, ju
Literature
I Have No Names for all My Teacup Babes
I feel always like I am starting over.
As a magpie I gather trinkets under my pillow,
bay leaves and bags of herbs to bring the next lover to me,
to call the next dream-face forward—a picture
painted in the tea leaves.
But truth be told the start-again
is never clean, is never gentle,
and the sweat of all that labour
is a fire on my skin, telling me
I will never resist its wind-cry.
The moon comes when I call, to help me;
midwife, she is, and she carries into being my new selves
like the babes they are, teaches them to
fill long footsteps like hers.
Truth be told, I tire of the destiny
I was given once—I am a teacup
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I wrote this while I was in a funk. It's Sir/Rem and very angsty. Mostly inside Sir's head. lol... All my fault, really. I wanted fluff and got this.
And, as for any werewolf related mistakes, that's all me. I'm not a puppy, so I don't know much. I just added what seemed appropriate.
So, so sorry. ^__^
And, as for any werewolf related mistakes, that's all me. I'm not a puppy, so I don't know much. I just added what seemed appropriate.
So, so sorry. ^__^
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