http://slow.writerscafe.org/Abby39 The original writings of author Abigale LeCavalier en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776028570 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 SweaterIt is easy for meto read words through the smokeof a broken cigarette,it is easy for meto stay wasted and occupied.Having no regret or inclinationto clear my name,I stagger through life;of course,not wantingfor another tomorrow.And she gives me roseswhen I cut her,she likes the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1885169/ ForgettingThinking of youin a way abstract,trying to find significancein words,turning the page smokingburning the fingertips.And I know you are listeningto my far away song,I'm not quite dead yet,just skeptical the waythe mouse is of the cat.I have been swallowed whole before.Letting go of water,no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1847911/ Repeat OffenderWaking up in waterturning turningyou have beenholding me downin the riverfor so long.Waiting waitingnever the chanceto catch my breath,you hold your handover my mouthand pinch my nosewith your teeth.I can taste your oppressionlike a mosquito tastes blood,running running awayaway away .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1837981/ Full MoonI sit underthe Full Moonlike a passengersilently dreamingalready in the afterlife.And I'm goingto leave it all behindin my head,better thantattooedinside my heart.Crying milk and wine,these tearshave no salt left,no dusty-road reminderof sun bleached skin;the scars of her memory.As I l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1810891/ Waxing GibbousShe thought herself a Butterfly and bargained with the Sun,only stopping to taste flower-waterin rainbow colored gardens.And on occasion she is a Mothand dances with the Moon,only stopping to scare childrenwith her dusty-dark screams.But the light inside never waversshining throug.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1808041/ First QuarterIn my roomin my room,I have a screaming contestwith a dolls head,black eyesdart through melike I were, miles and miles away.And I shudder to thinkhow my life affected hersor rather didn't,she spilled my blood once;now having a taste for itshe stores it in mason jarsunder her l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1806162/ Waxing Crescent She lives in a boxI keepunder a blanketunder my bedunder my bodyin my roombehind my door.Having no spaceto walk in circles,she bathes in bloodand memories,Dead Leaves and Lilacsdrinking wine and milk,thinking of a pretty death.I wont let her have it.She has cut the right wr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1790558/ New MoonI don't find itmuch a tragedy anymore that I cant count backwards from ten;it's part of the sicknessI call my life.Trembling once in her arms,I don't know how notto go back to her,I don't know how notto reach for her at night.She was my world onceas I was her Moon,she could fo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1780708/ Schools For The BlindIt's not as ifthe heart were winter,torn in the iceunder brandy colored skies.It is ripe fruitand go ahead and take it;there are no more wallsand clear fields for miles,for miles.The Sun shines alwaysthe water clearthe bread very sweetsoil tilledanimals tendedchildren cared fort.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1779387/ Sweet JaneShe's in love with the moonin black cherry skies,it reminds her of the killingdark watersof her mind.Swept away and underfeeling the pressurelike a Spanish butterfly,her brain is on firewalking on dark sands.And she doesn't feel the rainit's already a part of her,the thunder a pl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1758635/ Bird Of ArtThey are worth falling down forand used to make me tremble,I see them through owl eyes widesitting in the pages of a strangers book.Familiar to me;hanging from the moonby a rope,hearing that laugh again,the Cheshire grinning a Sunbeam rampant and righteoussterling a sing-song.A bird .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1749895/ The LashShe thinks pain is beautifulin thirty minute dreams,a stagnant thoughtand the memory of lost love,she has been bitter;knuckled under by bad artand broken promises.Wanting the singing to stopto rest in a bucketin a wellin the bottom of the ocean,tired and silentheavylike blood.She thinks pain.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1745460/ Bionic Just The SameI pulled a nailout of my headthe other day,more out of angerthan in a panic,it's a real bitchbeing bionic.I've taken a knifeto my womanhoodin front of the world,I know painand I have been deadbefore.I know what it's like being dead.That scares an audience;that and being a man-mad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1744881/ SwaybackI cant remember my nameshifting uncomfortablyin my comfortable chair,it's about the bad music,and the words that chirp by.A threat to the nervous system.Buckling under the pressureto perform like a starlike a super-star,like broke-down swayback like a defunct Prozac robot.I'm a biteran .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1743229/ FastbenderTaking a drinkunder purple skies,tipping his fedora to the downtown girlswith their whiskey neats and filtered cigarettes.He has sharps in his pocketsand Fast Eddie by the balls,he doesn't have to wait longin the city streetsthe concrete riotthe sing-song nightmarethe swing time .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1734320/ Lifetime Achievement AwardGiving up the Earthon her own terms,she is a water-snakereeling real reeling still,an infinite projection of whoshe wants to be.She pulls at the wingsof the albatross,and dreams of lilacs in June,sinking down in bathsof babies-breath and curdled milk,looking for the bl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1733939/ It’s apparent in small circlesless so in large crowds how strung out and dullI have become,like Major Tom, a junkie.I twist in no wind contorted,beating the groundlike some foul raging bull stampeding;once in a pond thinking of butterflies,now I chase the sparrow through purple skies.Vomitin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1732106/ Beckworth She doesn't miss the big skyin her dreams of California,or small town Americana,Pink Houses, or long sad songs.She finds herself in leatherby the chainand the whip;pouty lips and band shirts,Miller lite, Lucky Strikes,Iggy Pop and The Sex Pistols,new tattoos, a piercing or two,sitting.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1705758/ Grey, cold morningsin a funklet me outthrough the 'IN' doortaking thoughtswith me on paper,not in my handwriting, cursive.And I've been in this situation before,but not in this storyor in this city,but it's the same concreteand the same bloodrunning from the soreson my knees.Of course I can't r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1689066/ Sitting in a settingnot unlikemy own death,and I taste tobaccofrom her last cigarette.Pouring over the passagesof a long lost love poem,an epic in any others hands;but to my eyesa reprieve from indifference.I dance alone in shadows not wanting the luxury of my emotions to get the best of m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1648125/ Sea Of Tranquility  I look to The Moonto The Sea of Tranquility,it reminds me of her eyesand how I used to live there.I held her tight in the deep waters,she bit my handwhen I got too close;it was almost symbioticif there is such a thing.But I couldn't quite understand the way sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1608632/ Chaos TheoryFlaming out spectacularlygoing down in a fitof rage,I pull out flowersby their roots!It's not a complement you see,it's a state of mindon fire.And I grind my teethuntil I taste blood,keeping my hands freefrom my heart,baring down on the hourglass,ripping pagesfrom my book.Ripping pa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1592457/ Bleeding BeautifullyHearing her name for the first time,taking in wineby the fistful,she waits to walk in the sun.Barely breathingin someone else's poem,skipping line and stanzabarking like an angry dog.She takes steps sidewaysso the wind doesn't fusswith her thinking,she used to love lilacs&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1588725/ NoitciddaSugar coated and strangelike peeling the skinfrom an open sore,I think of rain.The stink of onionsin every sentence uttered,very much an open mouthcollecting waterfrom a drain pipe.And my knuckles bleedfrom fallingmy lips cracked by the wet concrete.What shoes?"I may be crazy but I'm sure n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1584469/ Wine With EggsBeing myself an eggand in the latter yearssome kind of dove.I pick at the bloodunder my fingernails.Stopping just shortof selling out,pretending not to noticeall the God damn holesin the wall.Beating my wingsat the at the future accelerated,and I have timefor a very small cup of c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1581373/ Sunflower FieldsI cut myself in Sunflowersto show that I still care,letting out the waterin ripples,standing in a freshly dug hole.I have no pitypushing down the gravestonesin this fieldof green and yellow and white,I only have the hot sunscaring my backand the taste of penniesin my mouth.I would ki.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1577744/ E SharpBaked in the sunto the bone, brittle,walking where a sunset once wasand will never be again.The ground is bitteron the tongue the light,or lack there of,crashes on def ears.And the water is sweet;not so muchas salt and wine,tracing the words in dead skin and dust.Believing the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1547558/ I had a dreamthat I was lovedonce;it never occurred to meto open my eyes.But that's not so,I just didn't want to.I didn't want to seethe empty spaceson the otherside of the bed.It doesn't matter.I can still smell the lastperson I had there,but I'm not sure if it was a womanor a man.And they nev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1543726/ She floats through my eyeslike butterflies do,turning up the corners passing a smile.I am warmin the middleof her life,as she is the anchorthat holds me down,centered.Siting on the floorsipping wine,she invites me overto hold her hand.I brought her a sunflowerand a bucket of milk,passing time&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1541896/ There is a stormwhere my mindused to be;there are fissures  in the memoriesof the peoplein my life.In.My.Life.My soul is aporcelain doll,fragile and incomplete;or a door off the hingeletting outthe little girl I was not allowed to be.And my heartmy heartmyheart.Blistered and beaten fr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1538826/ I can never saythe right things,the right way,at the right time.It's just not how I operate.I take the things inthat hurt me most,to quicken the beatand shorten the lifein my heart.It has beenis nowwill be,gravel to me.And I don't have any skin left.I am an experttying myself in knots,cutting apart .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1531524/ She talks in absolutesreminding me;I have only seen herin other peoples poetry.And in my mind she dances on fire,a shutterbug,laughing at the windbreathing in the air.Smiling.I want to gettoo know her,too place my handin her hand,I want her to tell mewhat it is she sees,in MY eyes.And I sit her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1527953/ Ginger-snapsI like starting firesunderwater,listen to the skull shake withinmy head.It's a real trip,like some waked-outLes Claypool baselineechoing in a coffee can.And the last cigarette I smoked,tasted like keroseneand Ginger-snaps.It's not a hallucinationif you believe it is real,or if .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1504450/ Everything And Nothing at AllI struggle with the heatand the razor,stuck in an ugly scream.Blistered bits of melancholy  ripping throughmy skin,pasting poetry to the bone.And in them nothingatall.Prying an eye openfor a bad dream,forced anxietywith afternoon tea.And I balkand I blinkreachi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1503428/ She stands on paper,looking over the wordssome other poetwrote.Seeing in herselfwhat she wants to see,in herself.And I know she is real;a snowflake on green grass,a drop of waterin my ocean.But she only whisperswhat I want to shout,and I feel the absolutionin her quiet tones.It will never bewhat I w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1476857/ I had formed her silhouette behind my eyes,not yet knowing which handshe used for writing.And she must have feltme staring;putting snapdragons in my pockets.She was as milkand saltand wine.She was the ocean. I took her indeep breaths,letting the air outin water.And she caught me in mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1476518/ She breaks windows in follyand dances in glass,not the least bit afraid of the blood between her toes.And I cant keep my eyes off of her. I catch her in parentheticals always around midnightshe knows i'm watching,only sometimes she cares.I wonder if she knows how beautiful I think she.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1386061/ Is it ever going to be enough?Bottled improvisations of sand-script,my capacity for painis endless.It's the seconds I hate most;next the minutes,next the hoursnext the days.How I hate the days.I dream of devilsin my sleep,when I sleep,if I sleep.A dragonfly .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1382439/ And I'm BreakingI break myself downinto a million little pieces,put them in a shoe-boxwith whiskey and milkand sand.Hidden in the shadowsof the monsterunder my bed;in my closet,in myhead.In my head.My head.Albatrossed byself doubt,I'd rather hangthan b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1380034/ I have thingsI have things I likeI have things I likenot so muchI have stuffI lost broken teeth in the mudCRACKED bones in a pinchit angers meto think ofwhat I've never beenand I slidei slideback to the frontof the butchers block surrounded off-castin the muralof my life... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1365847/ I backed up,and stepped in a hole again.I thought for a momentthat I was free,I thought for a momentshe was gone.She is gone.I'm stuck in the rumor millfighting for the breakdown.She let golike Plath,sipping the bitter ginfrom the bottleat the bottom.Looking upI think of water,I think of m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1365368/ GracelandArticles in the abstract;I count cornersin the boxes I’ve lived in,ready in windows, upstream in salt.And the painis in the cut,red and bold,I turn a circleto look back atmyself.Myself?My self.Weakness is a gift,I have skinned my kneesmore than onceto kiss a star.And I feel .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1291227/ EpicShe sits in daffodilsbehind my eyes,an impressionI can not discardor evenreallysee.She left me in bloodA bitter penny;and I slip throughan opaque memory,not quite thereany more.Salt brings less thanmeaning,or a ghost of a feeling,it was once love,oncelove.Now just the afterthought of a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1210640/ Critical ThinkingShe swallowed the lastof my breath,I had a taste for the dramatic;melodramaticmelodrama.Her touch warmed my heartto boil,I was tricked into the oceandown below deep waters.She held my hand in public.Placed ideas in her pocketsand in my head,she had whispers that could wake.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1202807/ SuppositionBeing on the edge,more on the outsidethan most,it takes talentto put flowersin my hair.Sifting throughThe Lock and The Keybusy building a beehivein strange moonlight.I have bought strings of pearls,sat across from idealswrapped in semi-expensive pinstriped pencil-skirts.Dreaming.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1129582/ In a Love StoryShe makes me feellike I’m breathingunderwater,a picture of a dovedraping, not a strangers wall.I live in hera Sunflower;silhouette of smokein her backyard garden,grey.Pressing against the soft skinof an open dream,she makes every drop of rainbearable.In a not-so-bearab.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1119690/ PatchworkA stripping down of walls,Bricks and Bone and Blood;hitting for the sunlight wastedbetting on unrealistic expectations,off-stepping through THAT door.There may be freedomin the flesh,but the willingness is fleeting,bravery is reserved for pinafores and aviator sunglasses,walking miles .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1103264/ Key RingIt took me by surpriseher heartbeat,my ear pressed firmly to her skin.I shuddered with insecurities,lost in soundthe vibration of feeling;unpredictable.And she smiled,put me in her pocketand fed me a snapdragon.Lightly brushed by windher fingertips electric,I had a place in her wor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1079248/ Absentee Separated by a momentof cinnamon,she moves closeto occupy a flower garden.Bristling at the thoughtof a river,in the seconds lost willing,keeping her fingers crossedin shallow pockets.Never before letting the taste escape,touching in small circles,falling through holesin the soft g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1040451/ Keep It SimpleShe looks upfrom the water,or the tears,or the salt.Holding hands in dark rooms jaded,sometimes carried awayby emotions perceived.There is no one left to blame.She is not indifferentto whispers and strong words,she just wants to hold onto the idea;this could work.Love is a wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Abby39/1020015/