http://slow.writerscafe.org/hannahdean148 The original writings of author hdean en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776017852 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I have grown.I do not recognize the path that I am on, if I am on a pathat all.But I walk sturdily and I am conscious of the steps that Itake forward.The stones lining the ground are rounded smooth from decadesof arguments with natureAnd although my feet ache from their unb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1767559/ This is not the end for meStay with meStay with meStay with meI see vast oceans reflecting backCoiled in delicate poolsSpilling Spilling overI am cryingI cannot breatheStay with meShake these chains offTryPleaseHold me to this earthPlea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1748061/ It is Sunday morning, and it is4 am.  I have always found choral music to be extraordinarily peacefulIt’s like my soul has been parched and finally I am lettingwater slide down its throat with a clean refreshing Something.Invigorating.The weight of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1731305/ I don’t trust you.I am desperately trying to bury my roots into othersBut the gentle tendrils are shivering from the bite of thewind that howls in my ear.I am entranced by your deep pools of blueAnd that little smirk that lights up your faceBut how am I supposed to kn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1730642/ inhales are inevitably followed by exhales http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1730615/ the cold air is stinging my throat with a vigor that I haven't felt in a long time http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1730610/ What does it feel like to preserve your inner self with allthat you can muster?What does it feel like to coat your skin in a shimmering numbness,and to lock yourself away within a tightly bound basket of smiles?I ache to know that feeling.My insides keep overflowing out of me, dr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1672546/   I am not happy.My smile is rusting in my mouth, exposed to the toxic words and barbed emotions that tumble through my head. My painted-on grin is patheticThe strokes are wobbly from my unstable gripAnd the paint is peeling from the harsh elements that exist within my own mind.A flash of teeth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1594766/ An evening walk on the beach http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/hannahdean148/1594763/