http://slow.writerscafe.org/mossyribs The original writings of author Addie Santos en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776058355 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  you                                                                             &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1353995/  Four days has past, and there they both stood amongst untouched high conifers and virgin oaks with a rather delicate gaze attached on their faces instead of wonder, instead of amazement. Both blessed with sable hair, the one with longer, unwavering mane leaned beside the body of a maple tree, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1346092/ I miss your tongue inside my mouth,where it performs a dance of fire.I miss your hands as though they wereattached on my naked belly, declaring that it was yours. Only yours.I miss the way you treat me like I was a person needed of it,needed of a knight in silver armour. I miss t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1344267/ i don’t think i can ever beat the girl who you grew up with,who you had damn sex in the backseat of your dad’s carand who thought you the art of blowing a dandelion. the one you said i love you oh so oftenwith hushed tones and sweaty palms.i knew she made you want to iron your cloth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1340024/ There are trees lines on my skinmaking up your nameand the ocean in my earscoming back and forthon the shore with thoughtsof you slamming the doorwhile I stood there,crying and begging for you to stay. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1340023/ Thinking what we could have becomewill be the death of me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1340022/ But baby, I did love you. I know how you liked your breakfast; tea and scrambled eggs. I know how old you were when you left your drunk father. I know how bored you get when we go out with my friends; what your opinion is regarding today’s government officials. I can describe all the flecks of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1333958/ I barely can understand my penmanship as I write a list to my future lover, who will forgive me a legion of times and who would make my dark places a home for himself. I'm a perfectionist so. 1. He has to be gentle. That would my mother would always tell me. No matter the looks, how thick .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1331177/ There are noises above my ceiling,and voices below my bed. There's one saying, "Be what he would want to taste at 6am."and the other that speaks of nothing but truth - "He doesn't deserve you. Go. Leave."I cry to his chest,with him having fallen asleep and watching it wasthe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1331158/  "What happened to your fingers?" he asked.he held my hand and I almost died.  “Get out.” That’s what I told the boy who made my fingers exhale poems who serenaded me old love songs and taught me the a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1329542/ Sex is not foreign to meespecially to men who swearto love me foreveruntil their nailswere brittle and blue.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1328911/ I am so numb. The daisies around me sway for you to come near mebut even I think the daises were paid to do sucha criminal act. You asked me if my lips were virginsbut you already knew the answer to thatas the actions that came were inhumanely intimatethat .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1328907/ this is another love poem you probably stumbled at midnight,waiting and praying that this poem would leave you withthe lighting shaking under your pores and after shakes of beautiful, euphoric thoughts to be reborn again and againat the course of midnight to four am. not at all.this is a p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1328517/ I can love you.I will take care of our little wooden houseand scoop up all the pieces of porcelain you just bust.I’m going to soothe your sable hairand kiss each of your skinny fingerstill I gain your trust to touch your scars.Tell me, why are they open again?Maybe I should collect all my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1326159/ He called me beautiful, then compared me to ecstasy. I asked him, “the drug or the word?”He answered, “the place”. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1326158/ will the bruises on your back say you missed me or the blood flowing from your elbows and knucklesare true to their possessor i’ll kiss the tips of your hairwhich are longer than mine and if i canI’m going to ask each gentlyif you love mebecause yourlips do not m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1326157/ I am a glass of fruit juice vomited out of the mouth of a recovering alcoholic. I am a quadrangle inserting myselfin a disc-shaped object. I’m the outcome of the experiment of fourth graders,the revelation that oil could not be mixed with water. Every part of my body is lik.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1326156/ i’m going to wear my red dresstonightand rub my lipswith a lipstick the colour of wine and try my new ruby heels. maybe dye my hair strawberryand paint my nails bloody marymaybe then you can think of me as a rose,but let’s imagine all the thorns have been pl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325794/ I was lying down the wooden floormy room reeked of alcohol and done cigarsI felt as though my boneswere nothing more than dustand the particles of the universeareflowing away awayMy eyes were shutbutI can still make up the figure of the sunrising fast like how fastI was dyingA woman’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325791/ Her breaking point was the unearthing of documents because of her poor fatherwho hanged himself in their gardenright after her mother died of leukaemia the documents say she has no rightto a single property and all belongs to the goddamn bank.She uses her beauty in all forms of s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325790/ this is one of the first works I ever wrote, so be merciful. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325787/ “The water is so cold.”Her shrilly yet numbing tone can be heard from where the kitchen was. It wasn’t far away from where the bathroom but he was quite certain she just attracted a few grizzly bears from here and there. The boy who loves the girl inside the shower very deeply stoo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325255/ You have been wandering the woods barefoot clothed in your ivory long dress with just the good amount of tousled ends that rest on your ankles. You make amends to the branchesas you ask for him,and perhaps it’s a good thing that the trees are brittlenowadays&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1325253/ You’re kissing my bodylike three innocent men successful on escaping prison, kissing the moist soil with moist eyes. You tell me you love me, even though I know it’s a lie.You tell me you love me againwhile you f**k me in this cheap mattress laid down the fl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324568/ It would be so lovely if you kissed me hardright after I told you I wasn’t good for you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324546/ I am so perplexed with the thoughtthat I could have youwhile you look at me with angst and pleasure with torment and with delicate eyes but you thought my poems were for somebody else and you know how I liked my coffee(three sugars, no cream)and I want you to love my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324542/ Arabella is an unusual girl. She likes to have her nails solely in black velvet. Her father sent her to boarding school the moment she turned nine. There she unearth that solitude will never be a problem for her, and so as independence is her best trait. She’s fond of seeing bo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324528/ The first thing that came out of my lips was the word “f**k”. I do not curse in mornings, but this was one came out with such ease. Another day to be bitter about someone else. I hope he’s better. Ok. I do not hope he’s better. I hope he’s worse than me, crumbling over .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324082/ Go find another loverOne who does not weep at a specific time (3am between 6am)who does not listen to crestfallen symphonieswho won’t dispute the brillianceof two people speaking in hushed toneswho'll meet your parents dressed in teared jeans and have dirty nails.Find a woman with th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324078/ Now,as my damp hair is swept by thin winds and this pen of mine is slowly losing it’s inkon fine acid-free papers;I recall, you, my love. You’re the reason why I waste my monthly salaryon cream and coffee,cancer sticksand empty envelopes. My words are my rel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324056/ I always imagine myself naked, perched over a rock,the mountain streams flowing. I have a crappy batteryoperated radio beside me. The station plays classical musicthat decolours your pride and makes you want to hug your lover in the waist from the back. I will kiss the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1324048/ Hearing him say I love youwas not the sweetest thing I have heard.The thought of his warm bodynext to mineevery dayevery nighthis skin mine to explorehis eyes mine to understandhis neck mine to moisten allformebut he knew I was a writerand I that liked .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323578/ I want to be the girl that cleans your wounds. Not your mother,or some stranger’s arms you happened to fall into. I want you to think of me the moment you were punched in the stomach - and how I’d be so worried. I want you to stumble on my doorstepat 3am, without.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323566/ He’s got his left arm cradling her lust waist. Her skin glistened. Her pelvises were sharp just like how his jawbone was. She looked like something high fashion magazines would feature on the front cover. That’s what she is. She looked like something out of the glossy paper. Sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323564/ When you start to reallylove a person, the kind of feelingthat leaves you soreand makes you bite your nails;it’s like touching a growing tumour under your skin. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323556/ I do not mind solitude at all. I dance around my apartment alone, welcoming the uninvited thin winds as I awkwardly sway to the masculine resonance owned by Frank Sinatra. I sometimes talk to myself about what will I say to my future lover who I will live in a horse ranch with and things I will say .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323548/ Your kisses are like scattered leaves in the fall, each one falling with effortless grace as they finally reach my skin. To think of it, they were like taming a cyclone. Can I be your cyclone? The foundation of my thoughts were all about you. It was an intravenous swim, how your skin was affixe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323539/ I asked for a rose,he gave me a rose gardenwith white fences guarding it. I asked for a novel,he gave me first editionshe bought from auctions and museums.I asked for a trip to the nearby park,he took me to see Moscow, Argentina and the canals in Venice.I asked him to lie to me,he sai.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mossyribs/1323538/