http://slow.writerscafe.org/PeggyOlson The original writings of author Peggy Olson en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776007308 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 There's a girl standing in my window, her eyes fresh and innocentNot any older than the day she began to wiltPlastic bracelet broken, fake pearls bouncing on his bedroom floorLurking in her future is the lion with pink innocence in eyesOne or two cups of bitter water...three or four kisses.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2157078/ How did i get here? To this point and place in time, This specific moment isn't even a wild variation of what i thought i'd be doing at this very moment. But you are not alone, says the floating cloud, you are here says the raindrop slipping down the window, you are real says the cold air blasting o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2116253/ Inspired by Charles Mason. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2115048/ There she goesa hallowed teardrop hiding in darkened snowI've seen it all beforeThose hands are goldhands numb and coldThe damned rise from the floorbroken souls to worship the light that she owns,oceans of blood scarified in her nameLivened with a pulse this worship is releasethose souls are b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2107102/ End of the night.It came out drunk, spit it out, tell me what you wantexamine my skins and take them all apartin a parking lothe loves me or he loves me not isn't the questionheremy frail wrists my chains to your tight handanchored round my neck.But I tell you...oh that night I could countI never lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2105313/ Number...After this, I'm just another doomed playerI could stay up talking to you at a seanceToo many lights the cameras flashing at a payoffI can almost hear you tell me "take the way out"...Saturday when you said you wanna dieI told you're my love we should spend our lives...forbidden&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2102927/ There is a blinking light on a porch in a mountainYou can see it; almost not, from a mileif you allow your eyes to by pass the half city, hlaf sum begging for attentionSoemtimes i cilck my porch light off and onWonder if anyone can see it in that dreary coveAs the blinking stops the house .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2102445/ It..it...is not enough. To relive the shadowed memories of your voice. Or inhale your fleeting scent from an inked sheet. Crowds of strangers and I look for you. The slightest mimicryAn imitation of the shape of your eyes. An imitation of your skin on every other .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2101962/ Tousled up and dropped on a draft as an afterthought one spied a maiden across the way. And wondered...how to make love to damaged souls; how did one make love to damaged girls;what language do they speak standing alone in crowds?...to appreciate her hips,kiss them like they are .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2100774/ The girls that hurt ourselves for boys. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2086484/ There is no destination here.You have arrived. Between lipsThe little girl resides, between lips Collide like things that float in outer space Make her eye shut up the windows to soulsHer mouth is the doorTo everything she ownsThe vessel of everything she knowsWhispers and cries you could .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/PeggyOlson/2070803/