It’s eye twinkle time
Preordained apocalypse
Ashes for the wind
About the Creator
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More stories from George Zelinski and writers in Poets and other communities.
He Never Asked Me to Earn His Love
I grew up believing love was something you worked for. Not something you received freely. Love, to me, was a reward. It came after you behaved, after you achieved, after you proved you were worth the effort. It was something adults gave in measured doses, like sugar—only when you were good, only when you didn’t ask for too much.
By Imran Ali Shah3 days ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Fiction
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