<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>bri | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/briwrites</link>
		<description>The original writings of author bri</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776136259</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Retrospection</title>
			<description>Retrospection hot like stoneburns fingertips as they trace history,leaving fingerprints in the shape of sense.Place your hands over your heart,heat rapidly seeping through the pores of your chest,&amp;nbsp;whispering words of consolidation.You must feel the fire.Place your fingertips so close to the fla..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2851091/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>is this what moving on feels like? </title>
			<description>I tried to think of you but the memories slipped through my consciousness like sand through fingertips on a sunny day when the tide is high It&amp;rsquo;s no longer so simple to recall the pieces of you that once made everything okay</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2814767/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>9:37 PM.</title>
			<description>I keep memories with you in a mental lockbox.&amp;nbsp;I keep looking at the clock, but I still can&amp;rsquo;t find the right timeto open it up.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;rsquo;m afraid I might lose the key.I keep memories of you in a mental lockboxthat I will only open up when the time is right;&amp;nbsp;when it feels okay to r..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2792407/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>I Hope You Can't Hear Me</title>
			<description>I just want to sing.&amp;nbsp;As loudly or as softly as I wish,no matter who may be listeningor who might hear.I want to whisper words of&amp;nbsp;songs that make me close my eyesjust to rejoice in the rhythma little bit more than usual.I want to perform the partsthat make me get up and dance&amp;nbsp;or put on..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2774674/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Inner Child</title>
			<description>Sometimes, I close my eyesand see a little girl.&amp;nbsp;So innocent and pure,&amp;nbsp;helpless and clueless&amp;nbsp;all at once.&amp;nbsp;As I walk through this life,&amp;nbsp;some days I hear her cry.&amp;nbsp;Some days, I see her in pain -&amp;nbsp;rejected, abandoned, scared.&amp;nbsp;Those are the days I close my eyes&amp;nbsp..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2774569/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Decrescendo</title>
			<description>Tired voices fill the airleaving buildings, restaurants, taxi cabsGlaring at the orange-yellow streaksas they collide above&amp;nbsp;-colors dancing,&amp;nbsp;telling their own storiesSoft whispers heard by those&amp;nbsp;who are willing to listen,reminding us of somewhere more peacefulSilence creeps it&amp;rsquo;s..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2774567/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Untouched</title>
			<description>My body screamed your name,but you couldn&amp;rsquo;t heara thing.Goosebumps when you touch my skin,&amp;nbsp;every inch of my bodylearned to crave youand only you.&amp;nbsp;Feelings of desperationwash over me&amp;nbsp;as you lift your fingers from my torso.My skin crawlswith the thought of what could have beenif y..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/briwrites/2774563/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>