http://slow.writerscafe.org/ShreddedCabbage The original writings of author Shredded Cabbage en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1779848900 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 At first touch,our love felt holy.Blue pressureagainst our spines,light gatheringinside our shouldersas we surrenderedinto one creature.But the body learnseven gods mustfracture slowly.One faithful vertebraafter another.I rememberthe strange tendernessof holding.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3135188/ The moon did not kill me.It is the distancebetween my shadowand the earth.Even lightlooks temporaryup there.The oceans wait belowwith the patienceof a mother, ancientlywatching her sonsmake mistake aftermistake.I rememberthe hard flutter of wingsfirst trying to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3135124/ I taught youhow to navigatethe labyrinth.Tied the silver threadto guide you back to me,it tremblesfrom your wristto my waistlike a second heartbeat.I remember wakingto the sound of water,dissolving the distancebetween us.It was drowningto feel your loveerasing u.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3135122/ The dead don’t askto be followed-But I followedyou anyway.I don’t rememberthe sound ofyour footsteps,yet somehow I hearyour footstepsbehind me,soft as dustsettling into my mind.Maybe it was only memory.I don’t have faith enoughto turn arounda.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3135021/ She unravelled the worldthread by thread.Every faithful stitchbecominganother promisebroken.Candles loweredthemselvesinto the melt poolof burnt memories -So next time you think of her,the flame will burn cleanly.Wax drippingin pale moon sweatand Penelope’s t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3135010/ The mapsnever warned usabout the terrainsof the heart.Poetry pretendingto be the seawas never enoughto carry me through.You speak likesomething with toomany mouths.We called it survivalbecause we were afraidto call it suffering.The wind kept askingus to remember.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134919/ If we were to meet now,by chance insome European café,you would not knowmy voice,and you would notrecognise my face,but you would knowthe woundI still carry for youin my eyes.I move nowlike a chaindragging through water,as though the memoryof you is too h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134917/ They offered us fruit,the colour of dead moons.Not sweet,not bitter -something quieter.The taste of regret -or the hollow ribsof love.One by one,the stars lay downin the grass,as though the earthfinally forgave them.Perhaps memoryis just another kind of starth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134906/ You left so quietly.No thunder, no speech,no gods bending the olive trees,or sails straining against the wind.Only the crickets noticed at first.They seem to remember youin smaller ways.Your heartwas a loose stonekicked away from the path.The rain smell of oil and ash.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134858/ Your body is speakinga language you didn’t choose,my love,one culture has alreadydecided.It draws invisible linesthrough your mindand into your hand.I am left-handed.How sinister of me.Perhaps that’s whyI’m always condemned.Perhaps that’s why.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134773/ Your memory turned nacredin the pearl-blue evening,pale, bruised with silver tides,brightest within veinlike cracks.I can’t see you clearly nowthrough milk-lightand rose-white fire.You have an opaline habitof disappearing,without leaving,only fadingshimmer by silver s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134602/ Love, in truth,is rarely simple.Sure it can survivesilence and distance.But it can’t survivenot being forgiven.I opened an ocean of regretbetween usand drowned myselfin sorry water.I almost stayed,but there were no islandsleft to keep me.That is the difficul.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134601/ There are nightsthe world loosens from its axis-streets empty,windows dim,the last train carries homesomeone who no longerwants to arrive.Somewhere beneathall the unrequited poetry,the old machine quietens.There will be no gods,no mirrors, no sacred woundsto close shut .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134458/ She moved through my heartthe way waterlight movesacross the bottom of a pool -impossible to touchwithout breaking the pattern.I wonder if she moves the same way in real lifeacross skin and glass and summer shadows;if she is really the kind of beautythe world keeps trying to hold.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134457/ I fell in love firstwith the light around her -making small mythologyout of wood grain and flowers,sunlight dissolving in dark curls,summer burning afterglowin a red dress.She leaned in like an unfinished painting,the evening café holdingbreath around her,her eyes drifti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134150/ Your words dry on my skinlike lead paint.They settle slowly into my bloodstream.I sleep inside their bruised colourevery night.I tried the traditional waysto remove your trace-sanding and scraping,and bleaching my skin.I tried washing over you,but watercolours don’t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134076/ Come, let me show youinside this woundof salted nerves andruptured marrow.Memory cuts upglass beneath the skin -cauterised,infected, weeping.Trapped voicesaching at the edges,light caught up in the stitching.I watched your shadowmove through the ruinswe called love... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3134022/ The frost formed quietlyin the fields of memoryand mirrors of hunger.They carried silenceas a lantern of winter,and spoke only throughsmoke and glass wounds.One still believedthe earth could heal.The other survivedthrough the blue mouth of fire.Fire leaves nothing unt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133884/ Love arrived carriedby the call of a blue prayer.The city air would notrelease its heat.The streets exhaled burnt coffeeand tobacco smoke,grilled meat and salted air.Someone was singing behinda shuttered balcony.A bird crossed the minaretand disappeared into memory.Ho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133696/ They did not name itwhen it first began-only noticedhow the worldshifted slightlywhen the otherwasn’t there.It moved betweentheir mouthswithout asking,quiet as breathin cold air,something that knewbefore they didwhat it wouldtake from them.There we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133585/ The open field held its breath too long-Something watched inside the grass.A dark shape rose as if from nowhere.Light fell hard and did not move.The sky came down without warning.Wings tore the silences into thin pieces.Something like an angel split the morning open.It watched li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133404/ The air was warm,but something in itrefused to settle.It moved through the roomas if nothing could keep it.Dust moved around it.Nothing passed through it.It seemed to occupya specific place,though there wasno visible cause.The space it heldwas familiar,though it w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133366/ I don’t rememberopening a vacancy.Yet something moved inwithout permission.It did not formallyintroduce itself.It made no effortto explain its presence.It arranged thingswithout asking.Soon, I stopped noticingwhat had changed.There are no recordsof when it.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133348/ I wrote your nameon the inside of my wrist.It stayed caughtwhere rivers faltered,softening at the edgeslike a promise madetoo early.By morning,only the pulse will remain.Skin will close over it-as if it had never been there. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133327/ I left the window open all winter.I thought you might returnwith the cold.It settled in the walls,in the furniture,in the bed.I never believedsnow could bruise-until light pressed blueinto the room,leaving violet marksacross my skin. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133316/ You are inexplicablydrawn tothe moon’s light.You pick a moonflowerstraight from the vine.The throat of nightopens slowly.My skin becomesanother white flower.The dark trembleswhere you touch me.Petal by petal,I begin to open.Your hands come awayperfumed w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3133040/ You knew memore deeply thanI existed.I found myselfliving under your skin,or was it you livingunder my skin.What I felt for youwasn’t just weather-it was the pulse beneath.When you were gone,the room forgot how to breathe,even the windows grieved.The moon .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132893/ This sorrow is my birthright.Some mornings the worldleans too close-the sun burns too cleanlyat the edges,every thought arrivesalready on fire.so even shadows forgethow to be dark,and my mind begins to outrunthe pace of the room.My mouth keeps makingtreatiesmy bod.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132825/ All childhood is departure,a slow exile from belief.So I took an axe to a treeand saw my name fall cleanly.It fell not with roses,but with something ruined,something achingly human.And so I offered myselfwithout ribbon,and without intimacy.But the inheritance we carried.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132810/ After sleeping through centurieswithout you,Chance touched upon desire.The unknown is stillabundant.Entire worlds are still inside us,waiting to be discovered.We share a common fate,passing from leaf to leaf,and lung to lung.Nothing that lasts forevercould burn this bri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132758/ I began to long for youand called it prayer.Is prayer itself longing?Is loneliness a sacred discipline?Is abstinencedevotion to suffering?Your body is my favourite scripture.Your poetry was onlyever a weather reportor distress signal.I stepped into an avalanchethink.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132743/ What if birth was exilefrom another life?What if existence is veil,drawn softly as breath overquiet water?I feel my soul descendinginto time,like sleep settling over childhood eyes.We trail an invisible disturbancebehind us, rippling under touch.Beauty finds us all too br.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132657/ We crossed the threshold carefully,as one would enter a wound.We entered pain knowinglyso we could wake what griefheld in sleep.What was blindopened all its eyes.Silence opened its many throats.Then fear arrived to close it.Fear slowly narrows every mind it enters.But.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132576/ The night was breathing musicthrough hidden lungs-in every small breath,empires trembled,in every fleeting moment,the dust of heavens stirred.She moved through this sacred worldbefore us,leaving behind divine residueand pollens of intimacy-So we did not invent love-we enter.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132322/ I need the moon because it teaches me.I will follow her, and she will find me-someday, somewherein some lost place.I love your hands because they hold the earth,still faithful when all else fails.I crave your mouth for what it could be,sensual, devotional, urgent,what might be ki.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132256/ The dawn touched the sky in rose, and gentlybruised her skin with light.To be alive beneath her felt like bliss,to breathe her hurt, and still ache for more.In loving her, I knew myself;she opened wounds of nameless sorrow,gave name to desire.Her light entered the river of my blood,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132175/ Black stars stitched acrossthe implied white sky area negative image of our world.Beneath them, a hollowed heartopened its branches towardthe hallowed threshold.Early light through the canopymoved despite the absence of wind.Then silence entered every artery;no birdsong, no i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132112/ You pierce my heart with blunt arrowsand call it flesh wounds.You send out words-dull-tipped, carelessly cruel,to find the softest soilto plant your split seeds.I hold them therefor a brief momentlike some half mauled memory-until I turn them overto find they were only half-s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3132013/ I am black and exact.I hold no preconceptions.Whatever is offered, I receive,untouched by cruelty or pretence,not to judge, not to correct.four-cornered, in your hand,held to you, returning your nature.Moving through a mirror darkthat hangs within you, and without-you speak.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131788/ edge of the world-the night does not holdshe leans away from meher moon has no hearthollowed into absenceher stars have no mouthsso to speak, collapsetime has entered itwind has written throughpain has stretchedalong the stitchesnarrow as a veina low relentless so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131725/ Every star you’ve ever seen is dead.Everyone you’ve ever knownis trapped between a dead skeletonand dead outsidesYour dead ancestorsthin and delicatecling to memorieswarm enough to hold themThey slip inward and outwarduntil they begin to hollowthemselves outsh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131649/ Fractals repeat as the pattern of the forest,branching from root to treeacross a liminal surface of light and shadow.In our lungs and blood vessels, rivers of the bodymove the rivers of the world,carrying the same quiet symmetry forward.It is as if a god wished to disappear into his .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131630/ I wash the clothes of the deadwith cold waterAnd hang the pale linenfrom heaven’s blackest starIt drips a silencestitched like woundsof memoryThere’s a dead birdin your throatits wings folded aroundyour voiceI don’t ask whose blood this isor why it.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131550/ Still-There are nightswhen the moon refuses closure,the weight of starspresses inward,and the silence answers nothing.Only slow, unresolvable memory-soft, blue edges of fracture-love’s quiet resignation.But something else is possible.A turning.Not away,but deepe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131299/ There is a weather-not storm, not calm-a slow-moving skydrifting across my mind.You appear there .Not lost but circling like a quiet scavengersearching for scraps.Your words like woundslike flowers, like mirrors,and something deeper-a pattern, unfinished,uncertain.It .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3131159/ I was born with a numberstitched beneath my tongue,a soft, metallic insect scratching behind my eyes.The world had already rotted -fruit collapsed into itself like ashamed suns,thick tar rivers already turned inward.I walked the empty corridors of mercy,unmeasured and open wo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3130881/ I turned the sculpture into something alive-or it turned me into something that could witness it.At first it was only stone holding shape,a face repeated, a thought echoed in mineral,time held in jawline,history sleeping behind dead eyes.But then-a breath slipped between the cracks.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3130691/ He did not stand above them.He moved within themthrough the undergrowth,unseen except in small disturbances -a branch parted without wind,a pressure moving through silence.He knew the paths before they closed.Not unseen to him.Only not spoken.God, but not named.God, but n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3130558/ It did not stop.Bone kept branching upward,stretching past purpose,past balance,past the quiet ancestral agreement.A crown became a fracturethat refused to fully split.The animal learned to carryweight at the edge of its limits-weight hardening into form.Neck bending towa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3130280/ I stood by the window. A bird crossed the sky - too fast to follow - and for a moment I had the unpleasant conviction that it had come from inside me, not metaphorically, but literally, as if something had escaped through my chest without permission.I stepped back. The room felt smaller than it .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ShreddedCabbage/3129753/