The place we conjure up this dread from
The place every thing we fear comes from
The place that stores our longings
The place marked for our covetousness
That place went missing this morning
Perhaps crept away in the dull of the night
The bed unslept, the sheet still smooth
A hollow deep pit just under the heart
The shape of things to come undone
The door that memory held unhinged
October 2011
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6 comments:
beautiful and haunting. I am conceiving a surreal landscape (or a forgotten village) for a love story I want to write and your words made me feel connected to that invisible place. Keep writing!
Thank you so much!
Sabba,
I'd like you to read some stories I have written that I don't keep on my blog, only if you don't mind. Am just curious to know your views. Is that okay? How should I send you those?
Sorry for the terribly late response. If you are able to see my email address then could you mail them to me please.
Thanks for responding. I don't see any email address here. It'd be great if you can provide one. Thanks.
psyche.reincarnate@gmail.com
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