http://slow.writerscafe.org/SandraCaskey The original writings of author Sandra Caskey en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776174475 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Part three of my mini-series. Part one: Life and Death's Forbidden Love. Part two: She Only Saw Death. This is dedicated to Leelah Alcorn. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1470437/ Part two of my mini-series. Part one: Life and Death's Forbidden Love. Part three: Death Has Life's Gift http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1470434/ First part of a mini-series. Part two: She Saw Only Death. Part Three: Death Has Life's Gift http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1470432/ Another poem that was sawed away from my emotions. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1441123/ I typically create a poem about writing once in a while. This one is personally connected to me and messes with my emotions. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1441122/ I am haunted by thesilenceOf our last goodbye.Our final kiss wasguidanceFor the hardestgoodbye I can’t deny. The look in thoseeyesShowed how difficultit was for you,As if you werewatching my demise.I thought I was, too. The sound of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1431649/ A very personal work. This is the best way I can describe my depression. I tried summing all of it into one thing, but I decided to split it into two works. So, Part II is being made. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1426168/ Consumption is the deadliest of captureFallen in the great depths of a strangling rapture.Barricaded down in the pits of Hell: struggling, burning, dyingand fighting the resonance demons echoing the inner thoughts       of me: crying, trying, and  lying,      .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1423697/ Beneath my bed, tucked away within a dusty box, lies a leather journal. Engraved upon the pages is a story forgotten. A tight strap keeps it concealed, so no one can be tainted. But as handprints begin to form on the box, slowly the strap begins to break.Within a white room, I envision the journal l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418303/ A book lies upon a desk, dust caked to it, a single hand print not upon it. Its spine is stiff and sturdy from not a single person reading it. And its pages are clean from the oils from fingers. Each day, practically every hour, a new paragraph is miraculously written along its pages, either creatin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418300/ An old beginning chapter to one of my finished books. Estelle is the character's actual name. I won't get out a full description of her, though. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418296/ Happiness is what I thrive to become. So, I am a greedy individual. I get what I beg for and enjoy it until I want something else. The walls within my room are plastered with vivid and lucid colors. Some depict scenes of my life. Some colors move to form a short clip or a movie. The colors show the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418292/ There was a time when reality was non-existent and what roamed freely was the people, who only a special one could see. Imagination at this time was at its highest peak and was mellifluous like a turquoise stream. Happiness was at a large milestone that battled the stormy darkness with glowing sword.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418290/ Like flies dropping, the rain plummeting, and the night descending upon the day, hearts are ripped from chests and bodies shoved into caskets. Shut it and drop it into the earth. Bury it with mud and place a marker with the owner’s name. Let the corpses rot throughout decades and their skeleto.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418287/ Suffering in this world of hate;Emitting my sorrow through my fate;Preparing my life for the treacherous fight;Taming the fury through what I write;Empowering the voice that’s always screaming,Marking its words from what I’m dreaming.Being weak from the torture of the past,Engraving word.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1418221/ The lights flickered within the bathroom, the orange rays darkening and lightening my skin. I stood before the sink, head ducked, and arms bent over my head as I attempted to form a French braid. At the top of my neck, my fingers became confused and one slipped, removing a strand and ruining the bra.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415827/ His kiss was that of fiery coal,A peppermint-feel upon cracked lips.His hands had gripped my soul �"Oh, the feel of ecstasy!His eyes obtained the celestial skyAnd were like the chilly arctic breeze.There was no chance that I could denySuch lively things…His alabaster skin was so g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415821/ I came here within her arms on the brightest side of life.The sunrays bent through the blinds.Her eyes twinkled with a passionate love no other could holdWith just the touch of a finger, stroking my tiny hand.I felt that love; I was engulfed in a love that seemed to have no end.I was welcomed into t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415813/ Crystal blue skies was once visibleIn a world without anything formidable.Opponents were partners and villains weren’t wicked;No crimes had been committed.But through the years the blue skies began dimming;The end was now the beginning.The skies had darkened by malevolenceAs the crystal pieces.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415789/ I stand before him,My head titled back to see his face,His black eyes glowering down at me.As I gaze up at him, I stroke the red string around my pinkyThat drops down, crosses the ground, and reattaches at his.We’re fated to be together �"“Come down, mister,” I tell him.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415786/ What we do and what we areIs something so sharp it can leave a scar.However, we are constructed this way,And you’re life isn’t freely given away.You can either accept our secretsWith all our false or true reasons.You can listen to us clearlyOr forget about us quickly.Do whatever you plea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415785/ The ground was illuminated by the vivid flames. Whipping shadows danced along it, reaching the small feet of a child. She stood still, mesmerized by the fire that engulfed her home. The flames were dimmed upon her body but showed what she experienced shortly. Smoke stained her alabaster skin. Her bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415784/ Darkness is always known for the lack of light,But within its depths, there it sits �"Short and melting; its time winding down.It has been burning day and night,Its own wax crawling down its spine and then splitsInto its bottom, where the flame will eventually drown.It’s a spark th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415696/ “Let’s play a game,” Death said to me.“And whoever wins the first ten rounds will get a second life for free.The rules are simple, so listen to me.You must first be born a he or sheWith traits categorized, one to three;The rest will come later, you will see.You will begin off.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SandraCaskey/1415691/