http://slow.writerscafe.org/Kysky The original writings of author kylie en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776027257 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Where do you plan on going when these tides change? I was thinking of picking up a bottle of that strawberry wine you love. I know it gives you headaches. Then I'll take you to that cliffside we discovered in August. In this wind? I'll drive you to it, we'll chase the sun.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1875732/ I put the dress back on. It's still "as blue as my eyes" like you told me on the first night-although I have always known them to be more of a gray-It hasn't lost its color after all these years resting in the back of every closet we -and now I- have had. I thought about throwing it away o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1874575/ The world does not look perfect until your favorite composer plays in its background, drowning out the cluster of noises taking aim. I am alarmed by these things I do out of desperation. But the crying cello reminds me of his quivering breath deep in my ear. And a triangle’s ding encourages a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1874574/ So we were wrong.The sun does not rise and the moon does not fall.This is a multiverse where nothingness tangles us in a confusing bundle of everything and you and I are an anomaly of physics greater than the mind can conceive. Not only are we functioning as organisms, we are doing so under the guis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1874573/ This hollow, golden morning you sit under sunrays beaming through dancing particles in the air; slow motion. The old table under rested elbows splinters as your coffee tips back to kiss dry lips. Inhale and exhale, its steam flushes cheeks and gold air rises to the sound of wind chimes just on the o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1874572/ On this night with the crunch of snow underfoot and my heart in my ear I stand in the middle of the road, nothing but a daunting yellow now red from above. Mysterious steam rising from the alley just ten paces away. I wonder to myself if I could curl up and sleep in this place under the wires , woul.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1874571/ I wanted you to bring me to the gate when all was settled. To scoop me up in your arms so tight, then drop me at the base of its glistening glory. I'd be bloody and scared but ready for the change. "Darling, you are no good" to "Darling, you are saved". But little did I know it .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1770534/ I cannot go on. I wonder how many suicide notes begin with these words. Itreminds me of how circumspect I am. Or humanity is as a whole it seems. I am so tired and so lost to myself. Who am I other than areflection of the expectations and systems of day-to-day.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1506441/ Trying to share the less boring parts of my life. We can call this non-fiction. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1475303/ I want to make love in a field of dandelions, spreading seeds with every thrustSo I can create life in place of what I’ve lost. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1350351/ Might make this one into a poem about a woman's entire body. Possibly. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1310263/ Language is not only of the tongueIt exists in the wind that caresses dry desert sands in the company of a shallow, golden moon.Simple eyes lust over the language of flame’s forbidden intricacy.Where heartache of the earth replenishes its burnt, brittle seed in teardrops of morning.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1207210/ For the times we fall for he whom we cannot have http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/1205758/ Playing around with imagery here. In honor of all things nature. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/991984/ Why did I choose against you? There was no "you". You did not exist yet. All logic is gone in this state. College. Work. Future. The drugs. The abuse. The shame, all because I chose againstWho? Sometimes I don't even remember.Those are my good days. But then I see your .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/991981/ Give me a reason to continue this. TwoPushing myself beyond true potentialFourThe bruises, the broken hopesSixAll for one spotlightEightAll for their eyes. AndAll for nothing.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/989769/ Are you My friend? A tall grass weaves through the tangled mess of hair or brain. "tell me, child, do you come here often?" as the tree blooms a face.       "First day"With curiosity at hand.    "Of many to come"With a splintering wink. Are .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/945539/ I wish, I wish upon a soul of free will and free of denial.Under the turning light of the afternoon sun, a satiric moment presents itself in the hands of a homeless man, holding a torn, soggy, cardboard sign with the word "smile" written in simple black ink on it's pathetic front... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/749847/ They say it is the power of time, It's like watching you in your sleep,dreaming of lavender waves in an ocean that rolls over Mysticgreen eyes, Heavy with the parting of yesterday's last moments. Troubles become distant as time slows itself to the beat of a heart, lush with .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/741521/ When my day comes to an end, this is how my head works. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/714641/ The world is your objectit is a home, in the palm of your warm hands.But you see a face you have yet to see,and Earth grows. A person on the street, you can offer nothing to help,Earth grows.And a disaster out of your control occurs in thedepths of a night,and you lose grip.only .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/701380/ ... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/652150/ Tunes, melodies, baffled thoughts concieved through racing minds,bruised fingers stroke her burning keys, Scale up and down in a magical tune, flowing as slow water in lonely streams,Lonley as can be, a voice fills the space, perfection flows for miles.The laughter is gone, yet the forgiving.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/622741/ Open bottle, spilling thrills,Give me silence,Feeling chills. Cold, dark heart,Eyes now closed,pale, lifeless body,newly exposed. Blood here, blood thereLost and wan, tangled, stained hair,Little black lamb. Seeking forgivness,but finding no h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/621317/ Here is an outlet for a personal issue of mine http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kysky/605145/