http://slow.writerscafe.org/kristenmaye The original writings of author KristenMaye en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776010160 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 when everyone else has gone to sleep,so late it has become early morning,we talkargue about philosophy, religion, love.our words spin in circles,dancing around each flaw in logic,never really standing for anythingbecause we hold more questions than answers and its in the search we find our joy... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/1183118/ I look up to a photo on the wallone face among the faces sets my skin a crawlall my life it's hung above mea mystery I longed to solve.How can I make that smile-in life so rare and broken-flit across that face?That question opens up the flood.for days I allow myself to ponderas I watch the world fly.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/1183106/ What would I doif you cut yourself for me?brilliant red lacerations on your arms:seething,bleeding,all for me.How would those silver lines would scar my heart,the sickness rise into my chestand wash away my soul?If you would bleed for me? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/797552/ I feel like I've been brokenlittle peices scattered round square glass on asphalttwisted hunks of metaland yet here I am in the centerdazed by brilliant reds and bluesIts like the girls I knew as self is goneand I'm staring down at a crumpled sheetsirens flashing roundI try to walk.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/763044/ The first knowelde of a babeis drawn out soley from his name.it is the glue that binds him,the stone that grinds him,forever to define him.there is no greater curse here on the earththan the shame of one poor chosen.the child Amanda, as yet unloved,eternaly taunted by her name.its .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/728690/  whistle a lively tune, my friend, whistle to keep out the heart. banish sad thoughts from your home, mi amore, strive to keep them apart. love has no place in the worlds of the weary just smile, stay happy- choke down your hearta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/725748/ 1/14/11 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/725717/ Damn it! rolling through my head like thunder DAMN IT!It wasn't supposed to go this wayI want to throw my hand to the wallfeel the calming flow of blood between my fingerswatch drywall dust mushroom in the air and fallI see you and i want to cryrush to your chest, head in handsI didn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/693535/ Today my thoughts are turning back to you. Back into those ethereal summer nights when we would lounge back in comfort, separated by the length of a room and yet never were we closer then in that twilight. You were to me both mentor and muse, friend and guide. my parents paid you to keep watch over .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/668047/ Not too long ago, my english class was deep in a conversation about the relations between men and women. She asked the boys what they thought they were supposed to be as men, while the girls sat back and listened (I say this, not because it is compleately irrelevant but because it was so incredibly .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/667498/ You can't wish love into beingyou can trybut Jinn in washed up bottles are not reliablethey like to cheat their masters of their prizethe love they bring is pale and fraila pane of glass in a hailstormhung above your head for shelter you can't force love to beto try is sensele.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/665235/ The stiif, pnematic hiss of the plane doors and the gnawing of the winter wind were my only greetings as I dissembarked. Three stars walked up to the stairs, holding their woolen scarves in one hand as they offered the other, but it was not I they greeted. Their attention was consumed by t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/657056/ I wake up in the pale blue glaze;The green flash of the alarm is telling me to sleepBut I can't,Dreams too strange now haunt the sheets.The ache in my head defies the sonorous tip-taping of my heart.Some alien force  in me seeks to cryBut in the sad light all my tears are dry.A na.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/657004/ I lay on the bedstaring at the cellingSeether blasting in my earsdownstairs you are still yellinghe's sobbing and screamingstrangely simultaneous soundI turn it up to drown the noiseBenjamin breaks on hardened earsthe lights go out but i can still hear the anger in your voices.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/648601/ I'm writing, what does it look like I'm doing?don't you take that pen awayI don't care what you sayI'm going to do it anywaytake away the pen ill write with chalkthe paper and ill scribble in the sandi don't care if i have to write in blood upon the wallmy words will be heard even if y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/648598/ How can I move forward if i do not fist step back? The question pains me because I know what i have seen and done and the remembrance is not a happy one. But I feel my story must be told. whatever i find in its pages, be it condemnation or vindication, peruse it i must. The earliest years o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/647230/ I'm tired of fighting. Sometimes it seems like my life is just a series of adrenalin highs, building one upon the other until the crash comes and I'm alone again, lacking even the comfort of tears. It wasn't always like this. At least i think it wasn't. Memory is left only as a dream, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/647213/ They were going to change warfare forever, our perfect instuments of destruction. But the experiment was a failure. If only we could have known what our arrogance would create. We never would have... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/647204/ Un petit poeme francais. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/642949/  There was a girl named Melody,who had the gift of Harmony.     Whatever was sung, no matter how sweet, she could with ease, her own voice meet and make so beautiful in turn,from her, the Angels wished to learn.  But it was not for her to hear. Her song w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/637561/ Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/637352/ keep playingthe smooth, slow music.no hatred,just sweet longing for those old,happy times.with their mellow keys,brazen tones,sad words of healing.up north,progress is rolling down.never stops to see its' own descent,can't hear the music of it's fall.Not like h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/637342/ These are the sparknotes for my life. I could write the book for you but it would become just that, a book. Besides, I don't even know if it has a sequel yet. For some reason, when you utter the words "my parents met as missionaries" it sets you apart from others. In Sunday school, having m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/635632/ confusion is the mixture of emotionwithout a recipesniff and tasteprod and scratchfind each ingredientwater and salt make up the oceanbut a handful of salt does not brine makenor can a pitcher of water suspend salt by the tonevery feelingevery reactionmust be weighedevalua.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/634518/ The battle of two minds, two hearts, and two blades. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/633315/  The dreams are flowingbackwards up the Acheron.Memoirs moving on. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/617664/ Glass Armoran illusion or reality? How strong do you think I am?What you see is not quite me.An illusion in reality. Talk tough, walk tallBut above all...Hide your fearsSwallow your tearsIllusion is reality Unfazed,Untouched,Or at least untilThe co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/612927/ Today was the first day of my last year so this poem realy shows my frame of mind. *edit* Name change. the old one was starting to bug me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/593356/ kudos to ZoomZoom, whose video post and dark poetry inspired this poem. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/582397/ lost in a world with too many choices; the scarecrow points every direction and none. Every step is changing the outcome; The novel of my life is being written with no way of knowing how this story will end. Every act is one of uncertainty,  frau.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/582362/ A dusty old rose hangs in the hall'neath the picture and timepiece that live on the wall.Petals, long dead, leaves brittle with age.A memoir of silence. A speckled white sage.Sad stories it tells to the tarnished brass lampthat has yet to disperse the gloom or the damp.Of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/558634/ A second, a fleeting moment of stolen time.The longest time i know.A brush, a greeting, an exchange of timid smiles.Oh! A crueler form of torture no mortal man can know.My timid hand creeps out to touch the back before me and hovers,lost within the air,too cowardly to do t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/558192/   Why is the diamond the image of right?                                        &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/558176/ Today I trespass in the these- the silent halls of my youth,the ancient place that we once cursed.Now my hands follow the ghosts of many others,past the paintings and the notes; tacked up in haste and in haste forgotten. Once these fingers were stained with purples and blues; every .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/557656/ did this one durring my AP lit class. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/557636/ Because I remember http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kristenmaye/557617/