Self
We were born from each other's womb, and were soaking wet in the expectations they baptized upon this crimson skin,.
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64 words
Joaru
My imaginary f(r)iend is a black paper crane.
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Stories
4
Followers
Stories by @Joaru (4)
Two
There was a time when we saw things as they are, nothing more or less,. Like my cup of tea, and our pouring milk, and your orbs of abyss,. But sight is nothing but a tool, it is sense that we sought,.
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106 words
Respiration
Please, please let me fly inside your throat, through your bronchi, and then I shall surrender into the tangling webs of your alveoli, and fill your every breath with my presence..
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31 words
Runaways
Reckless children we were,. Our delusory eyes tracing the non-existent bond,. And we claimed out loud, that we posses the knowledge on what is right or wrong, our heads high beyond the clouds,.
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50 words