<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Molly | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/mollyneb11</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Molly</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776116668</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Death of a Relationship</title>
			<description>Venting </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1732909/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Writer's Block</title>
			<description>Memories that run through my head, chasing each otherdust motes in the sunlightdistract me with the stale memories that feel so freshpop open the tab to a new can of happinessdiversionwrapping me in softness&amp;nbsp;blinding me from reality&amp;nbsp;</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1345389/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Untitled</title>
			<description>Like lazy Sunday afternoonsMy body draped on the bed in a pool of sunlight,mind wandering with the dust motes in the air.&amp;nbsp;Oh how I wish to succumb to the laziness licking at mymusclesThat ache to be in your arms&amp;hellip;&amp;nbsp;But memories are my frayed companions...</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1260176/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>To Whom It May Concern</title>
			<description>Woo me-Not with your words but with yourPresence.&amp;nbsp;The memories.Let your hands replace them,So when they cascade down my curves.My flesh can feel alive.Setting fire to every nerve.&amp;nbsp;Bring your lips, too.So they can brush against mine.Let th..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1260174/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Double Edged Sword</title>
			<description>connection			distancelove			hatehappiness			&amp;nbsp;painwhy&amp;nbsp;must there always be a blackto the lovely shades of&amp;nbsp;whitethe clean sheets that glowwith the morning light&amp;nbsp;and smell like spring.the warmth from our bodiesas they cover us&amp;nbsp;lightly kissing our skin.&amp;nbsp;yetthey feel so cold..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1189580/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Thirstin the Unexcited </title>
			<description>	Thirstin lived a very grey, very unexcitinglife. The shirt and sweatpants of his daily uniform were both grey andunexciting. His shabby charcoal apartment in the basement of the complex on 185th street oozed the unexciting dullness of Thirstin. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbs..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1183840/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>All the world's a stage...</title>
			<description>&quot;Ho! What play is this?&quot; thought the king,&quot;Where the people seem so happy, but if you look closely,they have eyes that are hollow, smiles that are strained.The laughter, too, jingles like Christmas morn, yet something is off.&quot;He leans in, engorged belly hanging halfway off his throne,&amp;nbsp;squinting..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1174834/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Isn't It Funny?</title>
			<description>Isn't it funny?The slow bump and grind&amp;nbsp;that is called dancing these days,and is the past-time for the youngwhen beer and heavy bass is involved.Isn't it funny?How over rated &quot;parties&quot; arethe fake smiles, caked on makeupand sex driven attire.but that's okayI've heard being over rated is in right..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1166145/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Surprise</title>
			<description>Surprise is the predecessor to affection and Love.....so frequently usedYet rarely captured.It seems to be more A social statementOf the worst kind.&quot;Know you are loved everyday&quot;&quot;Without love there is nothing&quot;But isn't it better to find love As if you were flipping through..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1165615/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Time</title>
			<description>The ache.When nothing goes as you wanted itAnd the world is crushing your voice,Your sense of self.You feel vulnerable and alone. Muted by timeEveryone around you seems ok,That time goes on,That things go on.Move on.Even with the smilesAnd that ache behind your eyes before ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1160093/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Meaning of Life</title>
			<description>&quot;I have found the meaning of life&quot; he said,Pulling out a mass of foil.Encased in paper,Dented and bruised,It looked more like trash than chocolate. Unwrapping it, I winced and took a bite.Then I nodded and smiledAs the sweetness overtook my senses .</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1157382/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Summer Nostalgia</title>
			<description>Thoughts&amp;nbsp;Tumble like kittens on the hard wood floor&amp;nbsp;As lyrics from those&amp;nbsp;Songs we would listen to&amp;nbsp;when the sun was hot and the sand was&amp;nbsp;hotter&amp;nbsp;Would float through my headphones...&amp;nbsp;We frolicked at night.&amp;nbsp;Like monsters&amp;nbsp;With our nocturnal eyes.&amp;nbsp;And the ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mollyneb11/1157377/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>