We are but strangers, disguised as temporary love. Cloaked even from ourselves as we enter the room with intentions uncertain and fall into quiet madness. For in this moment, we play at the peak of a pedestal we never knew we built. Marbled with projections of the holes we have within ourselves that we hide…
A Literary Magazine Of Verbal Doodles
From Monologue
Blurred Lines
Again, I am spotted at my windowsill– Feet dangling in the damp, summer air, With my gaze locked on the horizon. “What had I imagined all the years before”? The thought circles around in my mind while the light rain trickles in and the steam of my coffee trickles out— I take a sip. I’ve…

