http://slow.writerscafe.org/AlaskanPeanut The original writings of author Cœur en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776028600 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Who,That’s the question.Who are we?Are we people?Are we objects?Do we even exist?Who is she?An object for sure.And aren’t all women?Just objects put on EarthFor men’s pleasure?And who is he?This man?Does he hit this woman?Or kiss her?Is he also an object?Or a person?Who am I?The sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1913995/ I am female.My hair is short and straight,Not long and wavy.I drive a motorcycle,Not a convertible. I say the things I feel,Not hide them for the sake of being polite.You are female. Your skirt,Barely covering your a*s,Is bright and loose. Your makeup,Always perfect.You’re a flirtWith everythi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1909213/ He loved her.The smell of her hairAs it brushed against his cheek.The taste of her lips,As they melted across his own.The touch of her skin,As fragile as a rose. No, it wasn’t love that he felt.Not even close. It was the way she seemedTo get inside of him,Surround him,Become part of him.She wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1908993/ “Clary.” Clarisse awoke to the sound of her name. When she opened her eyes, they wandered in confusion. Standing in front of her was nothing, the white wall was all she could see. Deciding that it was only her subconscious playing mind tricks, she set her head back onto the pillow and tr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1908807/ This isn't really a 'story' per se, but I became bored and thought it up. It doesn't fit in with anything else, so I just put it up. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1908413/ I awakeTo ten thousand gunshots.Invisible demonsIn the sky.An earthquake,My stomach makes knots,Loss of all feeling.I don’t know why.I hear voicesIn the night.Of what are they speaking?I know not.These choices,Are not our rights.The thing we’re only seeking,Just a thought.I fall to the g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1908314/ You left On a red motorcycle.It wasn’t yoursAnd it wasn’t ours.The owner would remainA mystery to me.I secretly blamedThe motorcycle As a kid.If it had never existed,You would still be here,Right?You hated the color red, But you loved the color red. Your hair was red,My hair was red,We u.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/AlaskanPeanut/1907625/