http://slow.writerscafe.org/tamikasmith The original writings of author Tamika en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775978411 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 She’s getting better because,Her teardrops aren’t escaping from black holes anymore,Just a sad sky of white and blue. She’s getting better because,There no more snorting of lines,She’s just writing them instead. She’s getting better because,Pain no longer exis.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2806117/ First thing I've written in over a year. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2799592/ I’m swimming in an ocean,But the water is quicksand.I thought I came prepared,I thought I could swim.But I’m sinking in this sand,And choking on the air.  How was I so fooled?I know the colour of water,I know the colour of sand.How was the brown blue in my eyes?Now I can’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2121020/ One ball.One field.Two teams of sixteen. But on the field,All that matters,Is that one ball,And those girls. Your legs will tire,Your lungs will ache,Long before you accept retire. One bump.One fall.One Scrape. Just battle wounds.They present courage, not fear.They show strength,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2117872/ I am lacking motivation. This is a little something I quickly whipped up to try to ignite some fresh writing. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2117864/ I am a little lost in love.This place called love is foreign and lonely.The lights are on, but only dimly lit,I feel trapped in plain sight. Initially, this place was nice.But nice is all it was.I haven’t felt mountains move,And I haven’t felt the flutter of butterflies, nor the spa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2116725/ I haven't written anything in three years. I haven't felt the need to, I have been happy. However, I am starting to struggle in deciphering how I feel. I am a little lost in love. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/2116717/ Carbreaks slam too late,thedawn road, with black ice killsTreestense, set for impact Tiredsome death comes again http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1940497/ Youare a record,themore often you go round themore scratched you'll getIt'stime to change the needle http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1940496/ Twentysix letters Ingredientsfor powerWhenmixed togetherTheywill uplift or destroy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1940495/ Formuch of my life love and water have always shared the same qualities.Lovehas always been around me, howevernot something that I could grab;andwith each attempt I'd feel it fall through my fingers before I evenheld it.Exceptwhen I turned seventeen I learnt that love can be .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939850/ Gandhionce said: “Where there is love there is life”,andthis is completely true,buthe forgot to mention that where there is love,thereis also loss, and the death of our hope and happiness.Soyes, although love equals life; it can also result in death.Ipray that you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939849/ Lastyear was a total disaster and definitely the hardest and saddest yearof my life, butit wasn't pointless because it taught me what I used to secretlywish for.Ittaught me heartache and pain, andhow to live without the person who you loved most in the world.Ittaught me how.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939636/ Myfeelings for him are still there,butnow they're more like phantom feelings.Likewhen an amputee goes to itch the twitch in their leg,justto remember their leg is no longer there. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939632/ I wouldn't say I feelnumb.I don't feel numb at all,I feel so much pain,but I don't feel anythingother than pain at the moment.So maybe feelings are likeour physical bodies.Take feet for example.Imagine walking throughfreezing cold snow, walking through ice,and on spiky rock.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939630/ You are destructive, yetvery safe.You can sit in silence, ormake a nasty cackle.You are able to take downwhatever you like,but you will alwaysdisappear with it.It doesn't take a lot toset you off, or to cool you down,but once you've beenstruck you don't go back,and yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939629/ We're all guilty of doingthings that kill our sadness, right? What happens when thething that kills it, is the thing that caused it in the first place? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939627/ Incendiary.The dictionariesdefinition for this word is; “designed tocause fires”.The next definition is“tending to cause strong feelings”.Irony. Developing feelings is sosimilar to causing fires.Feelings can burn so damnbright that they keep both you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939624/ Youwere a paper cut.Analmost insignificant part of my life.Howeveryou cut me.Ihave been cut by scissors, razor blades and Stanley knives,butyou, the blank piece of paper, you cut me too.Peopleare colours, and you are white.Youwere so empty in my life,sopure and plain... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939246/ Lovinghim was never easy,evenwhen we were in our happiest of days.Hegave me so much happiness that even when he was right beside me Icraved more of him.Icraved him like the vast sky craves the deepness of the ocean.Hewas the whole world to me, but I wanted him as my universe.Pe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939066/ Youare my boat,keepme afloat,Pleasekeep me safe, in this sad storm.Pleasedo not sink,orlet me shrink,you'rethe one keeping me in form. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939065/ Whenangels turn to demons, insteadyour head,justknow that this is making you stronger,evenif it means today you can't leave your bed.Thedemons may say horrible things,butwithout them you wouldn't know how to fight,andso you'd never grow your wings. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939061/ Azoo of judgment, and hidden agendas.Itis called school, and the place can be so damn cruel.Thecorridors almost always seem to be echoing with noise,butonly those who listen, can understand the lonely void.Yousee this building may be full, but the people in there aren't.T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939059/ Whenyou are trembling alone at 3am, prayingfor your body not to fall apart, andwhen it is as if the music blasting through your ears, isthe sticky tape for your limbs, remember,that your broken heart looks a lot like wings. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1939057/ Thereis a dog, and she is a free soul. Shedoes not seem to be bound to one home, or one family, and the wholetown adores her.Sheis black Labrador with strokes of Grey fur, like beams of wisdom, orpurely just age.Shefools the visitors of this town when their cars chug along the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1797603/ Tears.Questionsunanswered.Abroken heart.Anover active mind.Holdinga lighter, to feel. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1797599/ AsI was on my morning walk, at a place I had never set foot on before;I noticed multiple white poles, arising from the ground. They werebeing smothered by green and brown ferns, and appeared to havefreckles of rust on their white exterior. I could not interpret whatthese poles were, but th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1794552/ Writeyour love in kisses,uponmy rosy cheek.Singto me in melodies,ofhums when you cannot speak.Teachme the passion of pain as youplaythe rhythmic tune of my heart.Danceyour fingers in my palm,proveto me that we shall never part. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1794279/ Sweaty palms.Blood shot eyes.I have been in this position one toomany times.You're name shouts verses in myhead.I struggle every day to leave mybed.You were mine, and I was yours.We thought we were bound foreternity, whatever the cause.But so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1793960/ Yourblood shot eyes lead the way.Youreyes show proof that there's a lane to heaven, and I am going today.Thereare many lanes to follow, and they all lead you there.Butthis magic smoke is my favorite way, the one you showed me becauseyou care.“Takethis pipe, and have a toke.Inhale.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1793913/ Blacknails, match black souls. Blacking out words, like memories.Blackthoughts, and black holes. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1792990/ Raindances on a tin roof.Thepitter patter of their delicate shoes;createa tune like rhythm and blues. Natureis an artist, and this is proof. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1792912/ Thewind howls.Thetree's dance.Awinter's day, at a glance.Thecold air pierces.Thehard rain stains.There'slighting in the sky, like lights on planes. Theocean is restless.Thesky is bleak.Sevendays in winter, is an incredibly long week.Ourshoes are mu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1792366/ Greyeyes.Hiddenbehind is a life of eighty nine years long.Greyeyes.Theyspeak, for her tone is now gone.Greyeyes.Theytell the story of love, life and loss.Greyeyes.Astorm of perfect serenity, chaos and wind.Greyeyes.Astain glass window to the life beyond.Grey.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1792324/ Iam an anchor,soheavy with emotions that I am bound to sink.Youmy darling, you're a boat.Youkeep me above water,youkeep me from drowning. Butwhat happens when the heavy anchor is too attached to the boat? I'llbring you down without even trying. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1791066/ Inthis house of mirrors where fear is distorted,lingersthe sound of nervous laughs and quiet tears.Thewalls show versions of reality that aren't there,thewalls give headaches that are hard to bare.Thehouse of mirrors so crazy and absurd,shinyand twisted, where you're awaren.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1790384/ Somepeople are simply seasons, there for a few months before they nosooner go away.Othersare like a drought, or a flood. Therefor a long time. Theyleave an impression that is incredibly hard to forget, and sometimesthey hurt you so much, that it is almost impossible to get back.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1789921/ Whathappens to us when we die?Dowe just in fact rot six feet below, under a blanket of dirt?Ordoes our soul fly to heights we have never known before?Dowe reconnect with loved ones that had indeed passed themselves?Dowe swim the largest oceans, or dive to the deepest depths?Are.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1788775/ Walk amidst chaos in the understanding that one day time will self destruct. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1788344/ Theair is filled with sweet rhythmic stories,andI sit to your music and ponder all of life's glories. Youplay songs full of passion, never without a delicate tune,youbrighten the days that are cold in June.Ohsweet Guitarist, just a few blocks away,Ipray that you will play.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1788294/ Icalled today, but you didn't pick up the phone.I knew you wouldn't but I just can't bear to be alone.We'vebeen over for about 3 weeks and 4 days,sincethen I've been stuck in a hazy maze.Myhead is a mess, and sunlight has become foreign.Idon't think I would last, without a phon.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1788036/ I'vebeen told holding on isn't worth it, but in my eyes it is.Thoughthat may be because they are blurry with tears. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1787565/ Hewakes at 3, and heads to the shed,hisbody craves for another hour in bed.He'sat peace with the darkness of the dawn, aday of tasks lie ahead, he doesn't mind, for this he was born. Oh,the life of a country man.Anancient hat, and walked in boots.Callousedhands,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1787475/ Pluckingthe strings of my heart, foryour a musician, absent of his guitar, compromisingfor the melancholy beats of my weak, withered drum. ***You'llplay to a crowd who don't hear the words, to them your music isbeautiful, tepid and strong. ButI've felt each beat, and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1787153/ Acanvas of art, heartache and love,ahome where our loved ones lie far above.Amelody of harmonic colours,anever changing picture, where our minds often wander.Acascade of intricate crystals, sunshine and rain,wherefairy floss dances along the broad blue lane.It'swhere the su.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1785840/ Theocean sings a symphony to the star scattered sky,thewind blows the air, that the plants need to survive.Theearth dances to a rhythm for the trees,thebirds fly along with the sensation of the breeze.Thefish follow the welcoming swell,therock in the creek is from a cliff that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1785001/ Cryingalone in a stagnant room,Rememberingwords that you spoke to me, on that night in June,Abouthow I was “too much” for you and a “little crazy”, but here IamZonedout in my own sadness, listening to our song on repeat, wonderingwhere I went wrong.Yesterd.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1784935/ Youmessaged me that fate filled night,youwanted to make our lose ends right.Youtold me you were sorry for all the pain that you'd caused,Ialmost said it was okay, but then I made myself pause.Iremembered the tear stained pillows, the stagnant smell of sadnessand defeat,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1784934/ Myonly friends became the black clouds that lurk in side my head,sinceI've lost my lover, my world has come to an end.So nowI sit on the bathroom floor painting my writs bright red.I sitand I wonder if this heart ache will ever end? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1784929/ Mytears fall as a river of blood,streamingdown my right arm.Arusty knife falls with a thud,finallyI am calm. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/tamikasmith/1784928/