Image Credit: Unsplash: dulgeon- George Dulishkovych The feeling of emptiness takes over Curled up in the bed, you don’t want to leave In a room no bigger than a prison cell Doors are banging, music plays, and people are talking in the garden But you stay curled up in your bed. Your mind takes over,…

Image Source: Pexels- Stephen Leonardi On Good Friday, we crack eggs and usher prayers over  offerings of French Toast drip          drip                       dripping  over the wet of the yolk to make angel smiles of yellow boomerangs on countertops against napkin folds piecing together my own  portrait of sunshine to fill our bellies with the sweetness of…

Image Source: Unsplash- Luke Schlanderer The piano has every potential to create masterpieces To summon tears or slow dances To some, this is recognized To the artist, this is a prized possession And cared for as such The piano in his house will only ever receive soft and gentle touches Dusted daily Yet, Yet in…

Image Source: Pexels- Tim Mossholder Freeing the belief of demeaning, retrieving of misleading thoughts. Working to the freedom of inner demons that claw at the seams of hopeful dreams.  Decaying as I’m fraying, delaying what is to come. Never-ending, condescending. Liberation for a declaration of limitations that don’t exist. This was written by our contributing…

Image Source: Unsplash- Ivan Lapyrin Cradled in the crook  of the lyrics that haunt my bedtimes both the old and new:  a bundled unit tacky with old glue trying to destabilise the aging versions  of me and you, weaving myself amongst the constellations  in the hierarchies of the stars starting so small yet  dreaming so…

Image Source: Pexels- Pixabay You won’t find me at a funeral, Cause I’m at the end of a beautiful story. If you wish to find me, Look for me not at the mortuary. You won’t find me among naysayers, For I despise such gathering. If you want to see me face to face, Watch a…

Image Source: Pexels- Ron Lach There is a girl who was born from poems not yet written, who speaks in the quiet alphabet of dreams. Her soul carries forgotten cities — stone bridges, mossy hills, empty roads where ancestors still walk. Even when she smiles, there’s a sadness at the edge, the kind that only…

Image Source: Unsplash- Sandor Rodriguez Castro Playing tic-tac-toe, And hide-and-seek; Racing round the camp, With old tires every day of the week. Building a spider’s house; Decorating it with flowers, Like during the dry season, Oh! it was some season to remember. Playing our game of “ouui” when the moon was up; Running round the…

Image Source: Pexels- John Hild she named the next chapter unknown she didn’t want to know she just wanted to live and experience whatever that might be she’d have to live and see This was written by our contributing writer, Luna Baic.

Cover Photo: Pexels- Taryn Elliott Sourced Through Pinterest No matter where we go Our hearts still beat as one, The farther I go, the closer I love Our hearts might not know this But we’re lovers meant to meet. Like a part of me You make me whole, Your smile is like my mantra Your…