The rain is pouring down and it seems to etch deep within my soul – trickles and torrents washing out the sand and soft mud of life leaving behind only the hard bedrock of my internal reality. Will my heart ever be made whole again? Will my love be returned in kind? Will healing come in the form of gentle but strong hands? This constant wearing away keeps me raw, vulnerable but somehow also pure and clean.
tara caribou | ©2020
Creative Writing and unfinished business...
18+ only ~ Art ~ Writing ~ Sex ~ Spirit ~
Start each day with a grateful heart :)
poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
Tranquil notions, melange of sterile musings & a pinch of salt
Doing the best I can to keep it on the bright side
Original poetry | Poem is me
Streams of Consciousness and Poetry
Portman's Ponderings, Procrastinations, Preambles, Prognoses & Parodies.
Either your life is art or it's a piece of work.
Poetry
Poet. Starscraper. Song whisperer. Niño de las estrellas.
Writen word and poetry
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
Writings of a mad man. Orson Welles once said: "He eats pizza!".
A New England Poet writes Poetry, Haiku, Fables & Criticism
teeny tall topics and tales, and occasionally diddly doodles
colouringchaos
Thoughts-poetry on life, nature and spiritual
Someone will devote their every breath to you someday my friend… They would be a fool not too!
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I hope so.
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That last line touched me deeply. Very nice piece🖤
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Thanks Spirit 💕
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Poignantly evoked piece
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Thanks for reading!
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You’re welcome
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Ahh, so deep🧡
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Thanks Jude.
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