<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Abi Heywood | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/heywooda</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Abi Heywood</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1775985551</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Creativity at Night</title>
			<description>Make me a book of my life.Of my past, present and future,Let light be shed on the decisions I made,And let darkness cover my strife. Devise me a play of my life. Of two heroines in love,Let there be romance and longing withinAnd let tragedy cut like a knife. Forge me a sword to f..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/heywooda/1703351/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Finished With A Kiss</title>
			<description>A face with two sidesbehind the glass you stay hiddenin the web of numbers and lettersand talk of me and my wordsof my life and decisionsbut never stop to think how it hurtsWith a smile and a laugh you stab through my back with your wityour words the knifewhich you twist yet I ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/heywooda/1584222/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Wild</title>
			<description>Your words are knives dragging across these cage barsenclosing the creature within,each scrape of metal upon metal,the chink of blade upon baryou chastised me for my wordsunlike you who continues to screech and grind on the very fibers of my being,though tamed like your&amp;nbsp;pet-I am wild-detaching ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/heywooda/1550725/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Observation of Analysis</title>
			<description>Most pensive are her eyes&amp;nbsp;which stare through words to perceivemeanings and themesin motifs, metaphors,in alliteration.The turn of the page;unable to resist hertouch as they roll and fold between finger and thumb.Grazing the languageonce scribbled, scrawled now printedwith dark arrows of analys..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/heywooda/1550705/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>