"hesitancy" poems
Your love rains down
from the shower head.
Sharp needles of fire
dousing cold feet.
It feels like daggers,
and wouldn't be so,
if I hadn't lingered for so long,
in my frigid hesitancy.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
Note: This is a running conversation between Dom Scruffy Lobo and me (his submissive - bunny)
From the Dom
Each day I grow more in love with You
Each day I feel your presence
Each day you submit yourself to me
Each day without hesitancy
How could I be so lucky
To have found a boy so sweet
How can I grow this bond
Until we one day meet
The Wolf preys on bunny
A dance to do eternally
This Wolf devours His bunny
With love so merrily
All-in-all love so complex
But still love so simplified
To be near you
And hear you moan
To Me you give your life.
From the submissive
I wish I could tell You what Your love means to me
But that right now is an impossibility
There aren't enough words in any language that's known
To quantify these feelings You have grown
i wish i could tell You how much I love you
But that is also something I cannot do
In the language of dragons and fairy and magic
The words might be lost, truly tragic
But listen to my heart as it speaks to yours
I know Yours hears the right words by the score
The magnitude is greater, greater than great
The intensity of our love i just can't narrate
But trust and believe i'd give my life up for You
Trust and believe serve and obey i'll always for You.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 5:22 PM UTC
It was a link like the one between bonds ,
Irreplaceable and impeccable.
Bestfriends , what they said they were.
When together , they gained a definite optimum.
Fancied by the crowd ,
But deep down pitied by all.
Hearts pumped with the same rhythms ,
The same hesitancy and same agitations.
Bestfriends , what they said they were .
A bit drowsy , a bit shattered
What to consider next ,
Was her only possible quest.
But sooner or later ,
She will perceive the certainty ,
That it was no more than a witless sanction ,
Bestfriends what they said they were.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
Another scar to bear
And another pain inside.
Nothing for you to see,
It's hidden behind my eyes,
But I do hurt, and myself I revile,
After these long months of living as a friend.
Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
Neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our part precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.
You, with waiting to play your cards,
Unfortunately you played it too close, you played too far.
How long is a guy supposed to wait
Before he wises up,
Before he realizes he will not catch the bait?
You tell a guy just want to be friends, twice,
And you know what, he thinks he gets the point.
You built your walls up too high
To try and prevent a painful ending,
And instead we never got to start.
Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our parts precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.
It seems as if I paint it all your fault
But we both played our parts.
I waited patient and tried to be
The best friend and what I thought you needed,
And when you mentioned your friend
Thought I was an "interest"ing guy,
I walked into it with my head held high
And both eyes staring open wide,
Refusing to let myself see
What you really did mean.
Victory, in honesty, I could only wait so long, hating to be alone,
And Victory, in honesty, I never thought I'd be singing this song,
Victoria, as things wound and rewrapped themselves
So quickly after I picked out a new course.
And to you again, how long do you
Expect a guy to sit tight and wait?
It's a lonely life to watch a girl live life
Until she finds she is ready to date.
And as for the poems you quoted at me,
Only one was written about the new "she".
If only you'd taken the time to see what
The upload date would surely tell you,
A different story on who the subject
Of that second poem was,
Of who I wrote that other poem for -
Or maybe you prefer now not to know
So neither of us has more reason to hurt
Beyond the fact that
I never showed you that poem.
So Victory, Victory, Victoria
This is what's to become of us.
Yet another scar to bear,
Something from my words I never did intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We, the players, acting our parts precise,
We, the engineers, the designers of our own demise.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
Punctuation marks the hesitancy in this conversation and
I can't help but dwell on words resting unspoken between
commas, ellipses and apostrophes;the
Spaces between letters where sounds sleep, vibrations
strike empty chords and fall short of expression.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
It's not because I don't love you,
because,
I do.
But you see
it always starts out the same.
I learn about you from a friend
when he tells me your name,
how much he loves you,
all the wondrous things you say
and that I need to get to know you;
today.
The next time I visit that friend,
you're there.
I try to play cool,
desperately trying to hide
how much I really care.
But inside I'm pulsing,
racing,
unable to think of anything
except when can I get you alone
and
when can I make you sing.
After all I've heard so much about you;
hated by those that don't matter
and loved by those that do.
So when it's time for me to leave
you come along without hesitancy
and
at home we get to know each other,
when your arch your spine for me
like you did for your last lover.
I hint at deep intentions
when I ask you to move in;
promising nights in each others arms,
my love and undivided attention.
“I have room for you in my life”
I'll say,
but despite this all
I still might give you away.
It's not that I won't miss you
when you're gone,
but,
the problem is I'm a traveler;
a vagabond.
I move on,
and on and on,
frequently meeting new faces
that hold a wonder for truth;
and they remind me of me
the me before you.
And so,
my darling,
it isn't that I don't love you,
I do.
But I've met someone new,
and this someone needs you.
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the sun is beautiful--isn't it?:)
come back no more
retrieve those times free those ends skirting down the space
literal meanings of known
overflow in motions of waves I would never say
then them be tunes symphonious to the ear
splendid in fear of eternal reveal
she in disguise no more
comes to a life
snatched in daze taken by hand
fight or flight said the drag to the glass
hesitancy in the eyes of guilt and rebel Mars
my heart flutters for the leave into the dark
a step between the light and the dark
no seconds no thirds on duty bark
turn the black and show the white hue
for a selfish moment for a stare for a blue
in the tremble memoirs are written upon floors for the remember
yet found in not an adequate resemble
lose me once then carve the doors awake
my feet lie on logs of take and not fakes
make up my soul
make up my mind
its not late for another chance another mistake
she in the adds
she in the lines
she for an escape maybe untouched by those
neither by these
cut my slate bring me to the reals forever sealed
for my eyes surreal
not for once not for dear
the sun brushes feather for the sight to near
an end of oceans to look up mercy on the seas
one jump to **** her gear
--------ravenfeels
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
Tantamount to the crawlspace where your emotions
are dissembled,
is the animalistic focus in your pointed gaze,
Sketchy eyed with jerky limbed motions,
As elusive as you are always around,
Or so it would seem,
Their eyes fall upon you,
no doubt,
You are a vision,
That I do not and have never questioned,
There is a fundamental lack of
hesitancy in your days,
lately you have looked let down,
Thinking of you,
occurs outside the restraints of time,
I would like to be everything with you.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
Where desire is an endless distance...
'He sleeps...I steal his brush,
Dip it red and wet,
Painting on his chest;
A mosaic of Love
My heart's mirror;
I carry him
Beneath my breast,
His Love
The first and last
Of my awakening heart'...
Writing him...
It was the softness of his hand
That held my breath against my will
Nestling in the curve of my arm;
My heart fluttered in his warm smile
As the mocha of his sight drenched me...
Smiles echoed on the canvas
Of tomorrows, suspended in each
Syllable that flowed like manna from heaven;
My fingers abandoned their hesitancy
Outlining his face,
Memorising...
I faltered;
Breathing in the shimmer of what is real;
His smile whispered a promise,
As his voice echoed my own
In an unwritten poem...
Poetry...
Lily white, she wakes near the night river,
The red mantra of Summer's rain, opens
The rose to shadow;
Cradled in awakened smiles,
The touch of twilight intoxicates visions of fairy-tales,
Like somber hues of unbuttoned fragments...
Heartbeats,
Soaked to the hollow of *******
Tucked in the deep comas of the lotus moon;
Her silver light,
Seamless,
Dreaming silks and milk tender...
A whispered name...
Hands steeped in honey,
Moving slowly through deep-red,
Echoes of dream;
Stillness,
Swallowed,
As hours burn pale candles,
Frozen eternal in spangles and lace...
Her wings wrap his pain in song;
Feather light,
A kiss of sweet enchantment,
Beyond the delicate tick-tock
Of destiny's hourglass;
A verse vertigo
Set free by the bleeding of her pen...
Reflections.....
This soft everlasting kiss
Nourishes the weeping within,
Showering each cold-shadow with warmth;
He sings in my skin,
Where we go in midnight's colours
My body, a pebble on his mountains;
Immersed in an endless sky;
Miracles flourish
Embraced in our endless beginnings.........
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
Almost
by Michael R. Burch
We had—almost—an affair.
You almost ran your fingers through my hair.
I almost kissed the almonds of your toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost contemplated using Nair
and adding henna highlights to your hair,
while I considered plucking you a Rose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost found the words to say, “I care.”
We almost kissed, and yet you didn’t dare.
I heard coarse stubble grate against your hose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost called me suave and debonair
(perhaps because my chest is pale and bare?).
I almost bought you edible underclothes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost asked you where you kept your lair
and if by chance I might ****** you there.
You almost tweezed the redwoods from my nose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
We almost danced like Rogers and Astaire
on gliding feet; we almost waltzed on air ...
until I mashed your plain, unpolished toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost was strange Sonny to your Cher.
We almost sat in love’s electric chair
to be enlightninged, till our hearts unfroze.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
Keywords/Tags: Almost, love, lost love, loss, lost, relationship, relationships, hesitation, procrastination, hesitancy, vacillation, near, near miss, nearly, close call, miss you, missing you, missing, loneliness, lonely
Jan 6, 2022
Jan 6, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
beside your brother-in-law, they placed you in the ground. they buried you by my great grandparents in an unpopulated town. by early September, the grass was cold; but they made a spot for you, so they wouldn’t be alone. dressed in black, i took a step forward; i grasped some courage, then reached for a rose. there were tears in my eyes; there was hesitancy in my step. they lowered your coffin as i took a deep breath. i swear i tried; i tried to be strong. but i remember you healthy, and now you’re just gone. so here i am; i’m faced with a choice: cry quickly, move on, & live, or socialize and listen, & try to forgive. they’re all here, grandma, your friends and your family; they came. you have no idea how great an impact in these lives that which you have made. i didn’t tell you that i’d been halfway lying, about the mistakes that i’d made. i regret not sharing my poems with you. i’m sorry for the excuses i always made. i’m sorry that i didn’t just sit with you to visit and crochet; i tried too hard to be busy until it was just too late. and i live with that regret everyday. grandma, i miss you. i love you. i know where you are lain. your beautiful soul is flying with angels, but your body’s in this dying grave. unrelenting overthinking causes a heart to stop its beating, and this gut-wrenching under-eating has got to STOP. my stomach’s bleeding from the constant hunger to feel needed. to be heard & to live in peace…once more. because grandma, i went back to your grave on September 7th this year, but i could not find your site. and i started to cry as i wandered aimlessly; to try to lay down the letter to you that i started to write. they told me that you’re better off now, but i’m not so sure i can go on living like my heart didn’t get torn out. my hands shake as i hang my head in shame because i cannot bear the thought of someone looking at me and finally noticing that i am broken..and hurt. frankly, i ache inside because, though i was there when you were buried, i know not where you lie. i forgot to pay too much attention to the site of your grave. maybe it’s because i was afraid to admit that this would turn out to be a familiar place, a desperate space, an earth-shattering, sob-crying, soul-dying, terrifying thing! grandma, i am afraid. because this…this is where you are lain.
© Melissa Carlson 2015
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
My legs around his waist,
My mouth embracing his taste,
Our kiss fire-fuelled and chaste,
Moving to an unseen frantic pace,
Pleasure ripe upon his glowing face,
All hesitancy disappears without a trace,
A game of pleasure but it's not a race,
Consideration of clothes treated like lace,
At the point of ****** i break like an overflowing case,
Starfilled vision-until I awake in the heat of his space.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
once you experienced love, you tasted the clouds.
"is it the true taste of love?", she ponders
then,
all she knows was a jolly certainty.
because of him.
now,
all she knows is a gloomy hesitancy.
because of him.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
"I don't care if it's a joke in your eyes." She said with no hesitancy and a certain sharpness in her voice. Her softness faded and boldness came over. Her stare was razor sharp as though she could **** someone but it was also disciplined more than impulsive. It wasn't rage, it was fire; fierce and courageous that l hadn't ever seen her dress in. She looked intimidating but strong. She looked daunting but fearless. "There is a limit to jokes, I do joke around and it is fun to a certain point. But there are words and actions I will not tolerate and that is my personal choice. My boundary. I don't care if I love you or if you are my friend. I don't care if you are the closest person to me or the farthest. I will not let your actions or words compromise on my self respect anymore. It is my self value that I stand by. Your actions, words do not define me. The way you treat me does not bring down my worth and neither does it matter to me anymore. I am not a reflection of who you treat me. I know who I am now, I know what I stand by. I am not afraid of losing you or afraid to be seen as a person who overreacts" She stepped in closer, sending a shiver down their spine. "This is my self respect, value, and boundary - accept it or leave"
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
I should’ve known the way you warmed your palms
against my back that you would kiss me, but at least your trembling
lips covered the hesitancy of mine, tortured into timidity
by the guy who pushed himself into me demanding
that I like it. You touched me with a reverence I didn’t deserve
as I remained tangled in reservations of certain caresses, positions,
and the possible suggestion of *** in my bed. You nestled your chin
in the curve of my neck instead and while you slept on the prospect
of contentment, I cried for trust you would expect from me, a wrecked
reject **** victim who believed that maybe she was a tease who would continue to displease any man willing to lay her. I made you leave
when I saw the sun’s rays, but relief didn’t stay behind.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
The Pregnant Unknown trails softly behind us:
Love’s secret voice
whispering, even begging us to surrender hesitancy,
that precarious net new lovers hold
while wading barefoot in shallow waters…
…this tide gently pulls us further,
Love offers us the gift of buoyancy over its fearful depths
as we pass in and out of each others arms…
Angels and demons on either side, guiding us,
but they can only see so far – oh, the power we hold!
We are both: pillars anchored separately in Love
and that space in between
where we mix beyond praise and premonition,
outside of time, yet we unfold.
Embolden by your spirit,
your imperfections revealing your vulnerability,
framing your beauty and humanity,
my own dawn with blinding clarity and stories untold.
Complete and overthrown by this Mystery
peeking from behind our fear,
dancing through our fresh eyes,
we are Here
mirroring in Love’s infinite womb.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
I am twisting these
Words simply because of the intricacy
that can be held by muttering together letter after letter
The language formed
The communication
I was going to ask if you remembered that time, but I know better
You know
You remember
When the winds were blowing hard
And we were to go our separate ways
And there I was pounding my fists within my chest
Wailing out
How badly did the desire stained liquid quench feeling of lust want to escape
Built up inside of me
Dying to break out
To be fed
You knew it
You knew I loved you
You stood there
Waiting patiently
gallantly
No you wouldn’t interpose anything
And the little fists within me would keep beating and pounding too afraid to break the rhythm they had formed
You stood tall
It was winter I think
Or perhaps late fall
Definitely not early spring though
Because I know too well
The scent of spring
And the feeling
And the time didn’t match with that
Your eyes glimmered
Secrets within
I so smitten
So afraid to interpose upon you
So afraid
To stand tall
Not wanting to burst our friendship
With anything more
But the desire had become too much
Insatiable with a simple hug or smile
You stood there
Only waiting
Yet I didn’t know it then
And after the years
When it all clicked in
I remember your gallant way of standing
And even now
Sometimes you smile at me
You smile at the deeper root within me
You see the grounding connection between us
You feel it too
But you see my weaknesses
And without doubt
My fears as well
I wish I could show you my strength
Although I know you know
It exists
And rather mundane now
For the time for these thoughts has passed
And now they are just meaningless specks
On the image
Of our youth
And I know you know that I feel I have to prove it
And I know you know I know you know
That it is unnecessary
Sorry for my hesitancy
But that time of year has come again
The rain
The wind
The dividing factors
Pulling away at my skin
At my scarf
And I can ever so clearly remember the prudence
The day
And I realized
Perhaps
For just once
So I can fill my gut
With the fulfillment
That you know
How deep I go
So...
Please,
Don’t smile, I love you
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
this poem may trigger and is entirely, as the title suggests, vile
A black room in faded blue light
night time party
We have drugs and alcohol and nice men
for your individual company
I drift between all conversations
he insults my intelligence
he’s so much smarter than me
he can prove it without trying
and I really believe it
A black light lit room
he’s been waiting for time
to stroke my ego and then put me down
I let him
My hesitancy is to be expected
he's older, he knows more than I could
I wouldn’t want to wait my whole life
for something I can get now
He’s so much smarter than me
I am so beautiful
worth forehead kisses and lingering touches
deserving of his attention
So we touch and writhe
and then again, later
there’s no real witnesses
and I feel cared for
Then morning light comes
and he informs me he did not
so I am obligated for round 3
In the bathroom
while the shower runs
freezing cold over me
I messed up, please stop
but I must have not been too scared
because I only asked and didn’t leave
His fist pulled at my scalp
and he told me I liked it
made me tell him I loved him
"You’re never going to get this anywhere else
You’re going to come back to me”
I'm shaking too hard to hold myself up
I’m crying, stifling it into my arm
I’m trying to shut up
but it hurts and I can’t think
"Shut up
You want me to come, don’t you?”
I want it to be done
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
I’m finally going to get on that platform
on the 18th of next month,
for a first-time, one-time performance.
The once, seemingly impossible will come fully true,
which seems like a lot narratively.
It’ll be like leaving home—but we’re crashing out.
Moving on to other plot points, big topics and intense missions.
We’re all caustically optimistic.
Although there’s a cellular-level pull to move on
we can’t help but feel a hesitancy to jump into our multifarious futures.
We’ve never been improvident.
In my personal pool of experience, when I feel alone,
friendless and unseen, this unintelligible fear noise arises
and I'm tempted to tap out. But I never have.
.
.
Songs for this:
walk but in a garden by LLusion
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 5:23 PM UTC
feeling trapped is a constant
it comes in sweeping waves that engulf my very world—
i struggle to keep my head above the suffocating surf that is my mind
i try to find solace in the ceasing seas of assailment—
for in that moment my battered soul will know relief
relief, however, is a funny thing
it comes in deluding dewdrops of temporary bliss—
i admire the enticing beauty that is brought to me if only for the moment
i try to ignore the crystal-clear reflection that is my perennial hesitancy—
for in that moment my composure evaporates beneath the afternoon sun
-hcd
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
You wormed your way into my room through tendrils
Of smoke curling through my hair
You sat on my bed as if you belonged there, and
Who was I to tell you any different?
This is not a hate poem; this is a coming-to-terms with my own emotions.
We kept the lights off, a deliberate foreshadowing.
I could feel you sinking lower into my sheets,
The conversation didn’t bother itself to become memorable.
You said you were six feet tall, I’m still not sure if that’s true.
I made you stand up to compare, but didn’t garner much,
Other than what it feels like to have your breath gently flow towards
My perked face, to have your hands withering at your sides before
Stretching out, over my torso. We sat back down. Conversational squares
Emerged. You kissed me, like I knew you would, without hesitancy or
Any questions at all. I had a few, but your lips stemmed them, and I figured
Your body was answer enough. It was. At least the first time.
It felt good. You were good. Especially to me.
You wound your way throughout my body and stroked my worries
Into oblivion. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it. We both did.
But looking back, I wish there had been questions.
I wish you hadn’t known that I would give myself to you.
Just like all the other girls before, just like all the ones after and during.
Nothing that happened was wrong. I came away from the night with
A new sort of tingling and a spreading smile and endorphins that
Seemed to bounce from side to side within me.
But I still wish I had been special. – Not what happened, but me.
This is my greatest downfall.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
Remember when we
cannot remember anymore,
the Sun shining through
windows sealed shut,
when we talk about it
we do not talk about it, we call
it with a different name: aberration.
I cannot remember you anymore
so small and languid in this
life. Everything pales in comparison --
offered by chance, filled with hesitancy
as if obligation, emptied by coming
into the fullness of it, saying it as a plump word
with the same accuracy of knives
tucked within the soft recess of the kitchen
counter that same day, you were different
as any other when we cycled through
Alexandrite Street, the world new again
like we were born in the similar moment
splintered by much less of a force waiting
outside the black gate of the home, and so
much more of a name slipping away
from the cliff of my chafed lip onto your
body's sustained pit, the drop barely an
indent, only as if of limited exertion but
possibly a weight for us to solder
through and through. I told you I could never
indulge into the fray and hold armaments
of it, but twice-told this battle I can
fit in: you, my accoutrement for war,
hallowed you are in excess of flow and march
through rain and light smiling through
opened windows with a blank circle of lightness
that is your face held close and memorized
before taking the commute home, force-equipped
with time's persistent pleading and our
untoward compliance like a reciprocal of stiffness:
you are the wall of your home and I,
a suspended pendulum with a dumb clockhand
in a stalemate.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
I can feel a poem rising at the tip of my fingers tonight. I can feel them revolting, buzzing with anger; demanding to be heard.
And so I tie my hair back, pick up my pen, ever the docile servant to my emotions.
What do you wanna talk about, I ask them?
The buzzing stopped short, for the first time with some hesitancy, they answer we don't know.
And so we sat in companionable silence, with pen held. A hundred fluttering thoughts, but none I can connect to form a poem.
Write down, they say, write what we have always wanted to say, and so I let my emotions glide my fingers over the page, scribbling my brain out of the story, letting heart play to its fullest content.
And so heart wrote the softest words,
And in silence my brain slept.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
***~for my poet friends who will understand exactly
the nature of our ailment/adventure~***
it begins when once poem titled,
which, a first clue, nothing more, a mumbled prophesy,
an arrow to duration & direction home but unknown,
a one-way stop sign neatly lettered in the
smallest sized letters with the disclaimer above
you sojourn to an uncultivated land, not sown.
you travel to places “finding out what you
don’t want to know, what you don’t want to find out,”
no guide, no well trodden path, no cultural prescribed woke diktats,
you are,
taken unwilling more than you lead, where endings
surprising, unforeseen, return tickets never offered for sale
pick words, more likely,
they pick you,
the only constant your rapid metabolism,
a winter snow blow, swirling churning, even midst
the most languid, sultry southern summer day
mind the mind.
mind the ground frozen until a tiny tickle trickle verse
becomes a full-on ground melt, wet and soggy,
******* you into a
rice-rock-hard pellet-poem thriving,
you observe your own drowning in a
6 inch deep wet paddy
the bottom line,
the net net, summary judgment
you commenced with urgent hesitancy for the
risks are great now, pen dagger chest pointed,
you, ****** in crosshairs, your own graven idol image
having found out what you
don’t want to know,
having found out what you
don’t want to find out
find myself weeping,
fists holding my head,
communing with floorboards oak hardened,
groaning acknowledging,
this, this, THIS***
*this discovering, uncovering,
this is
why I write,
this is
why I dare not write anymore!*
12/13/2019
~~~~~
postscript Friday the 13th, 3/26
~~~~~~~
or why I cannot stop…
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC