http://slow.writerscafe.org/mcapo123 The original writings of author Madeline Capo en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776093409 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 My voice -I look for her in everything.Films, prose, poems, epigraphsthings I dub beautiful and worthyof being wholeof being created things.My voice I know she's out there, somewhere.So long as she keeps askingIf it sounds right this line If it makes you feeling something&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2872736/ With you, it's calm. A soft Saturday sky with the whole day to play.Holding hands over the middle seat of a taxi that's moving through morning light.The sound of your voice when it wakes up.The way I am the first person to hear it. Autumn, in all it's golden glorydozens of rainbows rooted .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2868926/ hola, q tal? pues yo bien, y tu? hesitant fingers type confidently as if attached to another person's body that is not mine. and yet. here i am. 12:40 am. moving mountains and my plans just to put your palm in my palm squeeze my fingernails into your spine,scratch .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2867761/ Nothing really matters,because I am safe. I can lay down in the grass, and crank my neck towards the blazing sun. I can think about my dreams and make new ones. I can simply dream. I can search for a song to match my mood, an extra dopamine hit on an already gorgeo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2867760/ When does a small child begin to trust, I wonder. Organically. Instinctively. Little hands that know they will be fed and loved. There are no doubts or questions. There's curiosity and joy. Big hands lead them across wide city streets and into trains, airplanes, buses. Waiting outside school do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2867758/ We all put things off, but there are excuses and then there are reasons. I waited to develop any traceof your face. And asked friends for the favor. No one says no to the sad girl. But then I started to wonder...why all the big fear? Maybe I'd imagine you'd reach out of the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2865695/ I want to kiss your neck and hug your body. I want to be buried in your arms. I want our toes to touch all night long. But as we sink into each other, tell me something different. Something hard. You know, the things you'd only say to yourself in the dark. Or with a single tear. Palo santo can't bur.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2864966/ there are worlds of words inside of meand none of them are happy with me they scratch at my stomach and grind my gut liningthey want out - badlybut I ignore their cries as they slosh aroundbecause I am terrified of how they'll sound when I hear them in the mouths of othersor read them alou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2863809/ In May I thought I'd die  but like Gloria, I grew strongI learned how to get along.I rode my bicycle to the sea and watched the sun rise.I meditated. I sang. I breathed heavy and listened to every sound.As the stangers and me plunged our bodies into the cold blue water, I started to l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2862886/ I have been waiting for so long to get these words on a pageDon't ask me whyPerhaps I was afraid Of how they would look looking up at meThat their beauty would crush meBecause sometimes the same things that are the most beautiful elicit emotions so strong only tears can resp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2830342/ NowadaysEverything is a poemThe getting up at daybreakThe laying down at midnightYour sharp seafoam eyesYour tousled spiral curls Any and every meal we shareSitting across from one anotherOr shuffling in at a bar top Everything is a poemThe words you whisper softly With your tongue in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2830339/ My soul is insatiableIt lives in a continuous state of fullness and lack Crying out for a next thingwhilst reveling in a thing once cried for A symtom of humannes I struggle to change the patternBut the Longing She jolts through my veins Quickens my hearbeatMakes every .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2830335/ The white cotton is soaking wet a bone dry canvas that has been riddled withmucus, salt, grief, despair, dripping wet dripping in aguish my clenched fists wrap around you they find themselves neatly on your spinethe wrists press in hold on for dear life the way a mother.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2781476/ you know that you have changed me now that I count the days, now, with the height of your laughs and the nights with your heavy breaths pressed with their heat against mefalling and rising, this ruler by which I measure all daysnow there is nothing I don’t wish to plac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2474998/ there is a photo I keep of you in my childhood bibletucked somewhere between joshua and psalm, your arm is wrapped firmly around mom your skin is young and taut freckled from the bottom to the top just like mebefore me was considered mewhich is to say I am your daughter squi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2467930/ she belongs in many placesregardless of what she feelsshe believes she is welcome always and at any timepeople don't wish her awayquestion her coming or leavingregardless of what she feelsshe believes people's opinions matter littleshe feels less lonely in the arms of her mother,and her loversh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2163818/ the heat from your body reaches mine even though we arethree bodies apart in this double bed this afternoon two lines on 100 count cottonthe discussions we have these days make us fall into these sleeps, three bodies apart.the unconscious mind does not fiddle with the things that make us a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2163816/ I want your stomach to touch my lower back as we lay on our sideslike a newborn searching for the milk of her mother with closed eyeswe are puzzle pieces that click into place with soft movements and no effortyour hands slide down down slowlyfrom the mountain of my breast, to the fore.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2163812/ we are staring at one another, wrapped in a bleak light you have freckles in your pupils and all I can think of is that right nowif my head were to suddenly lose all ability to hold itself up it would stay directly inside your hands there would be no fall, snap, break, or ache&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2162839/ It’s a normal wednesdayI’m walking down the sidewalk My brain ticks and files through thoughts loudly and relentlessly Did i remember to water my plantsWill the Brazilian man with the Panteen golden locks text me before lunchWhy am i the only one with open toed shoes on a hot d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2162838/ I kiss the woman I have been. Her skin tastes of salt and is wet to the touch. I wipe away her cascading tears and cup her chin in the bowls of my palms. “We are walking away,” I say. Her face rests in my hands as if this is the first time she has bowed her head in months. I can feel her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2071125/ on my best days I am the tip of a bright orange sunriseexploding up from behind the frosty white mountaintops i am awake, early unafraid. i walk streets with ears filled of soft lyrics and melodies of tranquilitythere is a fast pace to my step i smile at everyone grazing mit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2004270/ Tethered and worn Ink has been pressed upon each sideMaking the page feel like a softerversion of braille as my fingers run over the lettersFeelings piercing senses andAwakening memories  As I touch words like "joy,” "grow,"".. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003403/  Lines blur because I am moving so fast With no idea where I'm going  Tears stream because I am thinking too hard With a brain like a labyrinth  Bones ache because I am just tired With trying to combat all the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003401/ “Ay bud can you run anotha thing o’silverware? We runnin’ low and there’s people pilin’ out the door like this theonly place to grub in sight.” The sound of Alex’s voice is unbearable, like afork in a clothes dryer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003380/ Hagerstown, Maryland was a nice place togrow up�"the family was all together then and this is the location of most of yourfondest memories and biggest laughs. It’s where your mom grounded you forsmoking in the bathroom with Susan after sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003379/ Ipop the sharpie top open and draw through the 9 solidblack lines that intersect to create some 31 odd squares stare at me abackground of large empty white space thenumbers inside hiding payment plans, coffee stains, anxiety attacks, and bus.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003377/  Iwant a love that defies logic onethat is unexplainable onesimilar to magic  Iwant a love that doesn't define itself incircumstance, but in foolproof truth  Themountains quake and the earth shakes, bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003373/ Youscuttle in with a weak smile, your second time today thedoors clap behind you and the hostess knows Legsare familiar with where to sit Patterns,water, routines, and “unsweet teaBothwith lemon, please.” &ldquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003355/ I am pinned at every angle wings bound heart to the floor blood hot in my gut  The blackness is frightening anddusty air lingers in every corner hugging moldy walls drying my mouth  You have done this to me. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003351/ Aninteresting heart once told me: “I prefer to kiss without emotion”  Sowhen I was caught in the action of desireIwondered what it was Ican only describe it as: Strongbones covered in soft freckled.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003349/  WhenI think of you, I think of peaceIthink of hope Ithink of grace Iknow these things Iunderstand these things Ibelieve these things  ButI still feel a knot in my gut AchurningAneed .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003347/ long braids shade brown eyes grown weary from raising a child as a child your choicethe definition of bravery  soft toes press down upon dirty carpet as the smell of herbs ignite my nose coming from the mouths of neighbors,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003344/ Ifthis is it then what is this whatcan I possibly do as adesert rises ready to choke us all bulgingfrom beneath, nearly unstoppable apeople ready to accept defeat Iam disgusted by what is hereassticky sweat is mixed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003343/ rufflesof air spread out like bunchesof soft cotton balls dangling, hanging asif in place somebig, some smallno two are the same, like snowflakes orpersonalities  mypersonality cannot understand how, across this long eterna.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mcapo123/2003341/