You were a ropemaker twisting strings around like hands twisting hands to wash each other free of fray, dirt or sin- to make it strong.  I remember when I could barely walk, you would enter the room and I would devour those few steps in giant bites because you were exciting and you turned every thing into something new. I remember seeing the tip of ( Read more... )

a little drabble.

.wonders.

He watches her, and wonders what she’ll look like as an old woman.

Her face would be softly sagging and creased like crushed tissues. Her hair, gunmetal grey. Her veins mining through her arms, bending along with her like soft blue pipe-cleaners. Her arms would be the colour of milk mixed with dirty puddle water. Her ( Read more... )

( terrible writing, but I needed a rant. )