Rain needles the windowpane, soft and cruel,
a silver net cast over the world's slow breath.
Inside, I cradle heat-
dark and bitter as memory-
in a chipped mug that knows my hands.
The throw blanket clings like a second skin,
threadbare, trusted, steeped in the scent
of long hours and quiet survival.
At my feet, the slow thud of his sigh-
my great beast of comfort, fur soaked in dreams.
Outside, the world drowns in its own grey hush.
Inside, I sip the storm away-
one steaming mouthful at a time.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:06 PM UTC
I did not ask for this—
this bruise of wanting blooming under my ribs.
You came like winter sun:
too soft to trust, too sharp to turn away.
I kept my silence folded
like a letter I’d never send—
and yet you read me,
one pulse, one breath at a time.
Now, my thoughts are ash-colored birds
nesting in your name.
I am undone—
not loudly, but with the hush of snow falling
on a house already burning.
May 9, 2025
May 9, 2025 at 9:07 PM UTC
My life falls to pieces every other weekend,
Standing at the edge 'bout to jump in the deep end
Everyone shoutin', "What is she thinkin'?"
But they didn't wanna help while I was sinkin'
So much pain that I feel inside
So many secrets that I didn't wanna hide
A smile on my face, another white lie
"I'm fine," I'll say 'til the day I die
There'll be murmurs at my funeral that they didn't know
But I shouted out loud and they still didn't show
To come pull me out, no, they didn't wanna go
Too late now, everybody stay home
'Cause I cried so many tears that I drowned in the water
A wife, a mother, a friend, a daughter
Now lost forever 'cause they couldn't even bother.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 9:21 AM UTC
I'm here on the bed, you're there on your game
Forgive me for thinking that that's sort of lame
You want simulation, I want stimulation
That comes from a touch not my imagination
I wish you would take me to far away places
Instead I'm left wide open with these big empty spaces
Wounds need to be dressed, holes need to be filled
Someone catch me I'm falling, dont even know if its real
Got people calling me an Egirl like Im after flirtation
Forgive me for being hungry for just a little conversation
Should I just fade away, while you play away
Watch me fade away, might not be here someday
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
Delicate writing on old torn out pages
Photographs fading of young eager faces
Trinkets and treasures kept safe in a box
Are precious moments we've held onto so they won't be forgot
Fragile pieces caressed with my long tender fingers
Old feelings remembered and some that still linger
A lifetime of love that is shared through the ages
And passed down through the photographs and old torn out pages
-A.W. 2019
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC
A Fight For Sanctuary
- by Amanda L. Winand
She wears a sleek white gown, the color of purity. Standing on top of a grassy knoll there is nothing but picturesque beauty as far as the eye can see. But the girl doesn't seem to notice. Tears fall from her face in silent streams and she wraps her bare arms around herself as though she is trying to keep from falling apart. A sudden gust of wind causes her hair to whip about forcefully; she can hardly stand against the strength of it. Without warning she is swept from her feet, abruptly taken from the grassy knoll and all that she knew and loved. Despair.
She falls back into darkness, her hand stretched out to the small patch of light still visible from her grassy knoll that grows ever distant and out of reach. Another ambient light begins to grow brighter from beneath her. But this light is sinister; she feels the devastating heat on her back before ever seeing the flames. She is helpless as she falls toward the lake fire waiting to devour her. The flames reach out like hungry fingers seeking to taste her fragile skin. She falls straight into them. Anguish.
As suddenly as she fell into the fire she all at once comes crashing through it to the other side. Dark water lurked beneath the flames waiting to swallow her for itself. She falls through the surface with the weight of a thousand bricks, a weight that is both crushing and suffocating and more than she could possibly bear. She is drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of darkness. Hopeless.
She realizes she isn't falling so much as being pulled down violently, far beyond anyone's reach. Once she reaches a dark, empty abyss whatever invisible hands had clutched hold of her have let go. She is floating in this new, empty place. There is nothing. There is no one. Darkness and emptiness become all that she knows. It makes it's way inside her until she feels nothing else, until she forgets what it was like to have ever felt anything else. Defeated.
Just as she accepts her new reality a small distant light comes across her vision. She gets closer until she can see the small grassy knoll she once called home. To return to this place she knows she has to escape the darkness and the emptiness that grievously hold her back. She fights a long exhausting battle against them, earning herself more than a few scars that will never fully heal, but in the end she is victorious. Finally free she returns to her sanctuary to once again experience the joy of the grass beneath her bare feet and the gentle warmth of sunlight caressing her skin. Peace.
Some time passes. The feeling of joyfulness gradually begins to fade and is once again replaced by an inexplicable sadness. That sadness begins to grow into overwhelming sorrow. Tears pool in the hallows of her eyes and fall from her delicate face. She knows what is coming but she is helpless to stop it. The wind begins to grow with the swelling storm inside her. She tries once again to stand against it's force but she isn't strong enough alone. All at once she is pushed from her sanctuary, falling backwards once again into the darkness and all that awaits her there. Depression.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
One kiss could send me straight to ruin
One sinful touch my soul to hell
But just to have you for a night
My soul would cry out "It is well"
To taste the sweetness of your lips
To have my flesh be a feast for you to dine
I'd gladly face those burning embers
Just to say you once were mine
Let marks on my skin tell the story
Of a night of savagery and bliss
Yes I would give up crown and glory
Just to have one taste of you like this
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC
He came to me dressed in my most secret desires. His face unmasked the figure in all of my clandestine fantasies, his voice the delightfully sinful whisper of temptation that excites my soul, his body the only banquet that could ever truly satisfy my hunger; his entire person has become the bittersweet reason for my absolute yearning. Mind, body, soul - I want all of him, from the very first taste I have been addicted and all at once he has become essential to my survival. I crave him with such a potent need that it is unbearably all-consuming; the slightest thought of him puts my whole body on edge with an exquisitely delicious ache. And though the urges his very existence arouse in me are as wild and insatiable as he is, I have truly never been more satisfied.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 3:59 AM UTC
Lying in his arms, her head resting on his chest, she listens to the lullaby of his steady heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing. She tries to anchor herself to the moment, to the solidarity of him and the promise of his presence, to the love and passion that burns so brilliantly between them, but tonight, and many other nights, she does not feel the warmth or joy or even thankful contentment she searches for. She feels instead the all too familiar emptiness burning it's hole through her, a painful all-consuming nothingness that devours her soul and threatens her very existence. She tastes the tears as they start leaking haphazardly down her face. "Save me," she whispers into his skin, latching herself onto him even more tightly than before. "Save me, because I don't think I can save myself." His only reply is a soft snore, his peaceful slumber uninterrupted by the girl crumbling away to nothing in his arms.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
A bouquet of flowers, how symbolic
of a love that wilts away.
Petals turning brittle,
I watch it's slow decay.
A head that starts to droop,
a hunger and thirst that can't be quenched;
what once was lovely and fragrant
produces such a rotten stench.
Tossed out with the garbage,
a new bouquet fills its place.
The cycle then continues;
such symbolism in a vase.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 8:08 PM UTC