Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
andisashayi Dec 2018
They caught their moist fingers in the mailbox and left them there to dry.
What was best was nearly always decided (by and by) and written against the softest music. You could not push and toil, one would underplay the sting. Or carry the memory of it, and mail that too.
andisashayi Mar 2018
The others lived
To see the inside of
my bedroom,
For sport

And he doesn't know how
Easy it would be
that it doesn't take much
with me

It's what you loved
the most, still do

But he is good.
He is kind.

— The End —