http://slow.writerscafe.org/Diggie The original writings of author Diggie en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776264428 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I don’t know myself,I only know your absenceI cry in Spanish tongues throughout this empty homeuncross my crucifix with your sins,and whisper me farewell to twenty four http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656116/ G-d feels very real here Silence surrounds me, as the train light flickers like soft lightening I just don’t get it They told me you were long gone Nothing is ordinary, only the love that remains http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656115/ we pulled out your teethand we took you inyou didn’t mind,they were full of sinout on apréswith the murder of crowswe danced in the rainand read through the proseyou said you loved meyou lived in my bedall you leftwas the black hair you shed http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656114/ I can feel your warmth through distance, channeling through my body. I can see my future, welcoming me with an abundance of bliss. I can hear your soul, dancing with mine through the night.-We never saw it coming. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656113/ I am alone. This room is crowded with false emotions of sanity. I want to pray with the pagans, for the deceitful tongues do not bring authenticity to your thesis. Who’s body is this. How can I be forgotten when this body is still here. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656112/ I saw you naked in the river, carrying significant burns from Wiccan children. Her heart remained motionless, they say she was only an American�"every cell in my body still thanks you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656111/ Maybe these shadows will hide my sin, these transgressions feel accepted here. Here, this body is only spoken of, for it is not mine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656108/ I have witnessed the land that was professed to us. After the third sunrise, may you inherit this land without me. I lay behind saudade and depictions of the Pentateuch. O thánatos eínai epáno̱ mou. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656106/ I can feel the lines that hold my skin.  I can feel the sin within my bones.  I want to feel it again, I want to call myself cured. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656104/ I kept your secrets from the herd. I held onto your intimacy while you held onto fear. Drink the wine from the false prophets, you will acquire its bitterness. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Diggie/1656103/