http://slow.writerscafe.org/ellasimone The original writings of author Ella Simone en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775944011 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I Walk a Little Lighter The nooks and crannies of my little life are bleached with apprehensionQuietIt’s too quietI love to perch on my mantle of silence but I feel that nauseating chill when it gets too quietI claim to want peace but I climb to the top of the same oak tree in my sleepLoo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957963/ ArabesqueQuarter turn“Now point your toes and let them burn” Russian rollTeeth agleam“Handstand on the balance beam” Straddle jumpSomersault“Now go leap over the vault” Tuck and split and Lock your knees“Climb and swing from that trapeze&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957892/ Mr. Mailman, I dread to meetThese coming days of empty streetsYou are an emblem of a timeBefore we made our skyward climbTo metal coffins in the CloudAnd left our planet burnt and plowed Before we rode our gamma wavesRight back into Plato’s caveProgress builds but progress breaksBite the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957891/  There will always be another childIn this house of polyesterIn this airless roomA plastic tomb The wounds of small hands fester There will always be another childUnseen, unheard, unversedWith fear besotHe can be taughtTo blink once and shoot first There will always be another ch.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957890/ Lunging, lurching, gaining, graspingWilling, working, aiming, askingFor another hole to fill Clipping, counting, plucking, pastingSprinting, but still seconds wastingAs I climb back up the hill I suffer from a sick devotionTo catching days through constant motionI feel them slip when I lie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957889/ Darkened depths and ghostly glimmerRolling hills of indigoFor weeks, my love, you’ve watched them shimmerThrash and crash and ebb and flow Tidal temper, Neptune callingTell me all the things you’ve seenWithout you, days have been as sprawlingAs those fields aquamarine The savag.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957888/ A bed of soft grassA blanket of boundless skyMy sweet morning dew http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2957887/ Lord, help us to quiet the monsoons of our mindsWarm the blood in our bruisesAnd stain the shattered glass in our soulsLet us sweeten the soil of this salted earthRealize the radiance among this wreckageAnd open our eyes toThe holiness in plainnessThe freedom in forbearanceThe sweetn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2867304/ Head and heart and handsTeeth like tiny windowsSugar in my eyes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2858754/ It’s happening it’s happening it’s happeningPerhaps I left my head on my nightstandOr have fallen into a television comaAnd drifted beyond the eastern edges of cloudsIt’s happening it’s happening it’s happeningWrapped in blueberry oblivion,Suspen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2858752/ i adore him lol http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2858749/ I have mastered the art of being fineLocked in iron hermeticism,I have spent each September of silenceInching closer to the throne of independenceScrubbing furiously at my skinAnd the coffee stains on my conscienceStuffing packing peanuts into my poresOn the way to my coronationI have torn through e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2854461/ Perhaps I am a peach turned putridBaked by the wrath of AugustBrowned and battered by bruisesPerhaps I am the fruit of a poisoned treeDaughter of salted soilA seed made scornedOr perhaps I am sticky with a wild sweetnessPerhaps the scarlet that frames across my skin reflects a Santorini sunsetMy ski.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2854460/ I will never again be the cosmic force I was at 20Buttery blonde and blistering with lifeMy cheeks rouged with rose-colored exhilarationMy freckles, a scattering of stars I have since begun planning for obsolescence And started the slow funeral procession through the drug store catacombs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2849151/ Essay on true crime and the public’s fascination with serial killers http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2849150/ I have never known a boy so wellAnd yet I’m still in aweOf how it seems you’ve swallowed starsYou are an astral reflectionA constellation of celestial smilesEven through the meteors that crumble at your feetAlthough it dazzles me to witness your luminescenceIt moves me mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2849149/ An essayistic journal entry. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2839336/ This is an essay I wrote about my love of Addison Rae and why I believe she embodies the archetype of the delusional girl. It was featured in the first issue of Delude Magazine! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2839335/ Beyond the eastern edge of the clouds It lies still and namelessTo its residents it is simply everywhereThe land of here and there And then and nowTime is a mere suggestionA slowly dribbling molassesLocation is entirely distantThe air is rouged with honeysuckleThe earth, a mattre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2832580/ There is never truly darknessEach room is kept alightBy smoldering embersOf past pain, hope, and frightWooden floorboards in the hallwaysThat criss and cross the mindAll creak beneath the weightOf notions left behindNo body is ever nakedSkin forms pockets of gloomRobes of b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2832579/ She brushes her teethWith raspberry rumRows of cavitiesFrom blood bubblegumLegs open like jawsPrickly with stubbleShe leaves every roomDown to just rubbleShe chews on lipstickAnd fistfuls of cakeVomits up glitterAnd eats boys like steakShe can't be banishedBelieve m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2832578/ A description of my love style. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2826428/ The primrose peaceOf a morning's hushThe strawberry spreadOf a baby's blushA girl in an atticTied by a chainHolding in handA corsage of painA precious songIts opening chordsNotes that soar highAnd leave one flooredA display of ribsLike piano keysA spherical stomac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2825308/ Me rambling. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2825033/ There’s a monster on Main streetSoft and without shapeHis skin a mustard hueWith a sickly green stainHe smells of rotting duck meatHis mouth is kept agapeWith rows of teeth that chewWhatever they obtainHis three tongues drip and glistenAnd reach out half a mileHis six e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2824937/ Ten thousand thunders Rolled across my sky Releasing razor rain That sizzled as it fell. If He makes no blunders Then please tell me why I lost petals to pain And my daisies died as well A spiritual chillOf the head and heartA mildew of the mindSpread when I swallowed desp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2824861/ Tiny grains of whiteDust my candied clementinesBursts of amber sweetnessLike volcanoes on my tongueI think of glaring lightsOver Brazilian boys in linesWhose nights are short and sleeplessMarked by tightness of the lungI crumple up the glossy bagAnd savor the fading tasteOf t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2824859/ Gossamer GirlI want to be a gossamer girl Slender and swanlike Sewn of silk and mist Buttery blonde And karmically kissed I want to be a gossamer girlWith stained glass for teethAnd sun-stippled skinVelveteen veinsUsed for violinI want to be a gossamer girlIn a sandcast.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2824375/ Dedicated to Lacey Fletcher, of Slaughter, Louisiana, who deserved much better. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2821997/ My Analyst Told MeBy Ella Walter His demeanor was not what Dr. Crispin expected of a man who had fallen prey to lunacy. There were no tremors of trepidation, no frenzied speech, and no admissions of acrimony. In fact, the patient was quite self-possessed; he returned the doctor’s placid g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2815030/ Pretty in PorcelainBy Ella Walter Flavie was finding it difficult to keep up with beauty rituals now that she was dead. Plucking at stray eyebrow hairs and scanning her face for signs of aging seemed pointless given that her rosy complexion had faded to a sorrowful pallor and shadows had statio.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2815029/ $7.25 Tracking and rackingour brainsfor new ways to go abouthackingroutinesto make gains. Logging and cloggingour sleepwith dreams ofsloggingawayfor cheap. Forgetting we’re wettingour boatswith the water we’re treadingto float.  Deeming all tensionAs acts of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800851/ A poem about my dad http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800604/ Musings on the cycle of domestic violence. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800603/ Crawl You say you’ve got to live foreverGo down in historyYou see no point in this endeavorIf you fade from memory But we’re part of something moreThan just our plain selves.From earth’s crust to its coreAcross continental shelves“We’re collections of carbonMe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800602/ A Girl is a Garden I took scissors to the strings of my heartAnd let them turn brittle and blackThat way I’d never fall apartSince I’d lost what I couldn’t get back I cursed my bones and everything insideMy poisoned body, stuffed with cyanide But a girl is a gardenMe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800601/ Critique of today’s feminism inspired by George Carlin’s “Modern Man” monologue. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800600/ Embarrassing love song lol. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800599/ Based off the main character in Stephen King's The Shining. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800597/ The title is a reference to Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800596/ Gentlemen in Glass “It must be peaceful, just swimming around like that day after day,” said the man with a wistful look. “I bet it is,” Owen replied. The two acquaintances gazed at a fish tank that stretched from the floor to the lofty ceiling, towering thirty.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ellasimone/2800595/