A limerick for reclaimed slurs
When I was an AFAB kiddleMy identity fit like a… Read More »A limerick for reclaimed slurs
No Gentleman.
When I was an AFAB kiddleMy identity fit like a… Read More »A limerick for reclaimed slurs
Heart’s Ease In the spectrum of visible lightHues in array… Read More »My Favorite Color
Honestly, Some people! There was an old Man on the… Read More »My Apologies to Mr. Lear
Every morning I wakeHalf blind with my neck in an… Read More »A limerick for 7:30 AM
I had been in one of those sleeps which do not let go of the heart,
And was thick-tongued and weepy, searching blindly in the dark sleeping car for my papers.
Astro, in the light of day, was jeans-clad and sneakered. She wore a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up past her tanned forearms. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tail, and gleamed with shiny health. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologise.” She held up the bouquet of roses.
Lyrics are not complete as poetry. They are created with an additional element, and you just can’t take that away- it’s like printing a poem without any vowels. The music is integral to the form- most of the time.
The little valley that we had driven into was inundated, flooded, overwhelmed by fireflies. It looked- silly.
An essay about BDSM terms. Adult subject, but not graphic or erotic in content.