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A Not-Love Poem[What the stars tossed, salt-casual, onto the not-black of the not-night suggest could be love, but I can't read them.]A Not-Love Poem
This is not a love poem, not-love, a not-love poem.
Falling waist deep into February stomping the signatures of lost years in footprints on the pristine present- this, not-night has become electric with memories smashing through the thin ice of teenage alchemy, charged, with the possibility of heartache,
by ~justaphase
Death of DeathDeath died this morning. I’m not exactly sure why it happened; it happened so quickly, but staring into the empty hole in the ground with his black robes folded up neatly inside, there was no denying it. Somewhere along the way he lost the battle and surrendered to the one-track crusaders waving their bold banners heralding “life, life, life!” up to the heavens.Death of Death
We all had our theories about how it happened. I thought it might have had something to do with the changing times, but Grandma insisted that he went down with religion. Uncle Albert, who had lived through the war, and watched his buddies be killed first h
by ~Squarix
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