http://slow.writerscafe.org/Krista%20Laraine The original writings of author Krista Laraine en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775988377 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I wanted to stay, although it may have been in a lazy sort of half-hearted way... Putting on shoes beneath the garish light, I wipe the sleep from my eyes in vain. Much too tired to fight my mother's insistence that I should come along. I gave little resistance- to this day seems wrong: I fought eve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/220671/ The transcendence of this earthly plane,language for such one cannot name,but feel inside with deeper mind,a struggle of a different kind.Between the felt,beneath the seen,far in the distance of a dream,heart with body left behind,where words unspoken may exist.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215289/ if my eyes were darkand broodingwith lush, long lashesencircling deep brown pools,I would never wear mascara.if my lips were tainted redand so fullthat they felt like exquisite soft pillowswhen kissed,I should never apply lipstick.if my skin were so ivor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215285/ I spoke to a sixteen year old boy today, all excited about a girl. "She is beautiful inside and out," he says, And I remember.  Running through the woods in the heat of early summer, toward freedom in a blue dress. The babydoll kind, tied at the waist and reaching for my knee.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215279/ You leave traces of sin down the side of my neck,approaching the collarbonelike footprints.Though they are lips-your lips, those faltering mismatched twinsstowing away secrets on the crown of your chin.Parting for desire's sake, when lust lingers too longand your tongue b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215269/ Sometimes ghosts appear in unexpected placesand leave me to tears.They visit on their own terms-perhaps they are invoked by more than one random thought.And I am always found waiting on the floor,searching for his footprints. You are with me now, headed north on 7.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215265/ Lie down with me tonightIn this casket made of glassI want to be yourAnnabel LeeThis loveThis loveI want to holdI want to breathe againFrom your lips, crimson by a steady rushAs mine are silent and cold to the touchTake me away from here-From this land of darkness,This .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/215262/ A photographof usat your grandparent's housein summerin Sun City Center,near Tampa.Smiling.Me in a white sweater.We're going to Sanibel,we're going to leave,say goodbye to them,one of us they will never seeagain.They were there at Thanksgiving,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214142/ Coffee in the early morningreminds me of the coast of Maine.The small hotel, the salty stingof crashing waves against the rocks,where you took a photographand I captured the lobster trapsacross the lane.October winds can be felt in your bones.Trapped forever inside,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214134/ To say learned would be in error- rather, reacquainted with something too familiar- too close, that I just barely recognized. I had forgotten my great love for the endless conversation. The deep analysis, intoxicating mind-f***s across grids of black wire. A penetrating gaze of voice and inflec.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214127/ With great difficultyI make my waythrough the world,like others before,but mine.A journey made easier byan ever-fading exterior.Limits set and broken,and I have not recovered.Notebooks filled with dark, precise handwritingsurround me,telling tales of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214121/ The sun has come at last, again, to rouse the sleeping land. She slowly stirs, he takes his time- the sun, that gentleman. Her hilltops feel him first, but rather, just to be a tease, her valleys flush with pinkish-red before the higher trees. Awakened first they start to swell with promising deligh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214089/ Last night I found an old Christmas movieI had loved when I was seven.And so I watched,the same scenes, through different eyes.Understanding parts I had never beforeunderstood.And in doing so, brought you back.Drinking wine did not help-though it may have enhanced t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/214086/ To give reason for a sigh,the deep and long,at times collective,silent, or barely audible,at times reflectivebut never wrong.Just something he saidthat requires no hasty reply,no proper word to voice,but a contemplative sigh.To explainmurmurs of the soulwith his lips on my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/212027/ There is a feeling that growsbeneath my skin,between the hips,above my pelvic bone.It flutters and burns-a thousand bumblebeeshave taken up residence,there inside of me.In love with it,I hate you.that knowing look,those eyes that study me,they never changeyou'll never l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/212023/ Once I was beautiful.Beautiful as the steady, glowing candles placed inside the windows of New England's winter. Flecks of love in my eyes, desire in my veins,coursing through that sudden storm like the Andrea Gail.For had it been some altered lifetime, I may have blazed on furth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/212018/ I give songs for secret reasons,and tiptoe all around.You are an icy walk, threatening to melt,a season changing without a sound.My cryptic one, you hold a traitor hand.The queen has left the building.And love, it folds so quickly now,while I am drawing hearts in th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/212014/ I live where the cold pierces through my outer layerlike tiny shards of glass.Where making love is blind as a snowstorm,where once it tantalized the senses,and the places that were warmed.I am beginning to forgetwhat it was like coming in from the heatto air conditioning, and adding to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/206112/ My neighbor has the Christmas lightsstrung up around the big pine tree in his front yard.They are shining tonight, and it is the 7th of January.I had never noticed before that a few of them blink,but perhaps it is the wind.Why must he torment me?And I cannot seem to shut the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/206107/ These dead days of autumn's last,when the hills give no placefor ghosts to hide;with elusive daylight fading fast,and haunting stars to guide,this dry, barren land takes its last embraceof all that was innocent,and all that is past.Looking through a kitchen window.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/206028/ I am getting lots of exerciseshaking those martinis........sip, sip................sigh.............Shaken 'till they're icycause it's summertime.Goose and all the gander.I want it like a kid wants a Slurpee. .....sip. sip..................cry.............I have figured.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/206020/ I ride along the river, through the silence of the night.Around the hairpin turns, and all the high beams moving past-they blind my eyes to yellow lines, while certain death looms inches right.My hands betray me in that ill-fated moment, my feet a second fast;the steep embankment li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Krista-Laraine/206007/