A dazzling green jade rosary lay upon her bed… She draped it so softly over her head. And while she slipped into a flowing white gown… She couldn’t help but notice her frown. Before she could say goodbye to her virginal youth… She did what every little girl should
In Ireland, nestled among fields of endless green, there stood an isolated well. Moss clung to its stones with hues of tortoise brown and conifer green, soft to the touch, like the earth had been cradling it for centuries. The rocks that made up the well had smoothed edges from
I sit at my keyboard with my skeleton hands, They type and type as much as they can. They write words of regret, sometimes of disgust, Hit backspace, replace them — happy things are a must. I can’t control my skeleton hands, They move freely, ignoring my commands. They don’
There was a man who loved to run. He ran from everything under the sun. He ran from his emotions or his inability to say how he could feel. He even ran from the idea that someday, someone, his heart would steal. In the morning, he would lace up his
The ghost behind the door lingered and wanted to be seen. He hid in the darkness of the night and straddled daylight at times. He regarded the cup of tea that was left out absent and cold. He counted the footsteps from the front door toward the bedroom. Not at
…and because I live in the realm of things fine and glorious, I found myself bespoken to a legion of fanatical interests — repurposed into dull, unvibrant entities. What could I expect from such illogical creations, whose fatality begins with the first breath of my unspoken air? How can I bleed
Come quietly. Here, the ink remembers what the world forgets. Every word is a small rebellion... a sip of darkness made tender by light. I am so glad you are here... For those who listen between the lines. Elaine Degro
This piece is a reflection on wonder, art, and the ache of craving deeper connection in a hyper-automated, hyper-curated world. It’s for anyone who's felt restless in the mundane and still believes in the magic of the human mind. What If You’re Not Bored, Just Underwhelmed
Part 10:00/154.991746031746031×Part 20:00/120.062666666666671× Today I feel like writing.But not a poem, not a story, not a chapter — just writing. I haven’t written in a few days, maybe a week, because in that time I’ve been doing nothing but simply living…
Because apparently birth control couldn’t just regulate my cycle, it had to give me a dump truck and an identity crisis. So, listen… I was never a fan of birth control. I tried it once in my early twenties because of irregular cycles, and when I say I transformed