Prose
Hands
The blue veins criss-crossed the backs of his hands like roadways on a topographic map, showing where his life had taken him. The opposite sides, calloused and strong like a vice, rivaled a grizzly bear’s. At least that’s what I imagined when I was young, looking at those hands, wondering if mine might ever look so scarred and weathered. Those were the hands of a hard man, a hard life. Mine rarely do anything more strenuous than striking the letters on a keyboard. His were gentle only when resting on my shoulder or giving my hair a tousle.
By Randy Baker2 years ago in Poets
Love, Madness, and Marriage: Navigating the Complexities of Human Relationships
In the realm of human emotions, few experiences rival the intensity and unpredictability of falling in love. It's a phenomenon often celebrated as divine, yet lurking beneath its surface lies a dangerous madness—a madness that can wreak havoc on the stability of marriages if left unchecked.
By Christopher Ezeh2 years ago in Poets
Ships Lost at Sea
We are continuously changing In some ways, there never was an old us We’re a living ship of Theseus Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
