Whisper sweet nothings into the night’s listening ear. Tell it your secrets. It’ll listen, and never judge, and continue to hold you as close as ever.
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
Whisper sweet nothings into the night’s listening ear. Tell it your secrets. It’ll listen, and never judge, and continue to hold you as close as ever.
I can’t fit. I can’t find the right door to pass through. The sunlight is rapidly fading. Snow is falling all around me and all I can think about when I look at the flakes is how they might look like the ashes after my everything burns to nothing.
Wolves are circling. Closing in. I can hear their howling signals.
I’m running out of time.
I feel powerful right now. I feel free.
I read about the lengths people go in fear of their imaginary deities, and I feel empowered by the fact that I only have my own mind and judgement to deal with, not some random individual or character from many centuries ago.
Why am I shown this
He’s panicking, mouth open
But sound doesn’t exist in this place
The gentle parts came back to me today.
These vagabonds never stay for long.
Some days I feel as though the scattered and missing pieces have mostly come together and then I’m really here, complete with all my fears, and it’s the closest to whole I can get.
“You’re my best friend.” she repeated, for the hundredth time if for the second. “You’ve come so far in two years, but there’s still so far to go. I just wish…”
I’m on a train.
I like the rumbling, the shaking and swaying.
Back in my high school days, you sat with me on the bus once or twice. We must have lived near enough to each other, then. That route wasn’t very long.
Quiet fellow, I can’t remember for the life of me what we talked about. Maybe nothing. Maybe we just sat in silence. I’m pretty sure you were in the same year as me. You were always so quiet, seemed so alone, you were like background scenery that no one ever noticed.