My footprints trail blue
From inside my childhood home
To exes I flew
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Kyla Crist and writers in Poets and other communities.
As the world goes to shit Let us commit To the extremity of it all And with a slurred drawl Toast to Dionysus and the gift
By Kyla Crist4 years ago in Poets
That first night: the laughter, the music, the love The first date: the music, the poetry, the moon The road trip through a hurricane, my yoga pants ruined by rain, the Violent Femmes, and that morning at the Hirshorn, the Rodin
By Harper Lewis5 days ago in Poets
Following Information is certified and very professional. First, feel something small. Maybe your friend said "k." Maybe you waved at someone
By Chxse5 days ago in Poets
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tóth4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.