http://slow.writerscafe.org/SC9346 The original writings of author MaybeDreams37 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776190600 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 She walks the familiar walk to nowhere,raindrops falling at the speed of light.His voice is playing in her mind from the dorm room to the gym."Why do you do these things to yourself, Pumpkin?"A treadmill takes her awayas she remembers her quiver from his touch.You can’t keep doing this, Sweeth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294209/ Hearts can be brokenBut that's when we find out what's truly inside. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294202/ Everyone's in love and I'm in luck.You're as no one as they comeand as disaster as I'll go. And I swear it's nothing more than "what's your name?"And I know it doesn't matter anyway.But I'd rather be your trophy than alone'Cause I know once the music stops It's done. And if you're not looking for lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294200/ If I were any good at love songs, I think I'd say something about the stars and your eyes. If I were any good at holding on, I don't think you could breathe. If I believed in karma, I'd say I don't deserve you...but I hope I do anyway. If we both start driving now, do you think we'll ever end up at .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294199/ I see a shooting star. I can't tell if it's my wish coming true or falling away. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294196/ One of my first poems written in a contemporary college class. The prompt was simply to write off of the line "So what should we do about this angel" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294194/ An attempt at parallelism. Imagery intended. Relatable yet personal. Flashbacks. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294187/ Another stream of thoughts strung together through run-on sentences. It's what I do best...I hope. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1294180/ A work in progress. I've been stuck on the third stanza for a while now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1287111/ Freud, send me a dream from your moss-covered graveNot a whisper, but a howl at the waning moon so that your voice disappears with the sunriseA dream that cleanses my psyche with lamb's blood and inflates my ego with hell's heliumSo I can give back, I need to give back.Look at me, Gabriel, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1287105/ For her. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1287102/ For my grandfather. December 23, 2013. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SC9346/1287098/