http://slow.writerscafe.org/alishya The original writings of author fracturedblue en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776195798 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  The wind scrapes in, cuts. Handles, Knobs, cupboards all make sharp voices and pretend they all exist. When the light curves in around my ribs, I think of empty homes, all founded into their living without hearts. If you hear their heartbeat call, its only imitation. On the desk, dust covers.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alishya/378115/  where we are nowwhere we find ourselvescollidingagainst the truth glasslearn the lies we'vefound refuge inthis we find, inalleys and cigarettes,blue dresses and christmastrees,the spinning flashof light developingour grey notionsand these liveswe've learnt to live.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alishya/377181/