Midnight, maybe four,
no matter the time, I yawn
and sip my warm drink.
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One can never go wrong with a warm drink hehehehe
More stories from Luna Jordan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Mug between my palms, steam rising, then fading out, snow taps the window.
By Luna Jordanabout a month ago in Poets
I have dug my fingers so deep into my arteries That I can taste the hemorrhaging pain of last decade's memories. What a silly little way to pass time, shredding my neurons
By Silver Daux4 days ago in Poets
Open the closet search through expired boxes until you find it.
By Kera Hollow2 days ago in Poets
I heard of the jokester in town. My staff was afraid to share the tales, for they knew the stories infuriated me and punishment was my expertise. I inflicted many types, and excelled at using sharp objects and heated “instruments.”
By Andrea Corwin 5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
One can never go wrong with a warm drink hehehehe