Haiku
Words trickle too fast, floods of imagination; leaves only ink blots.
Words trickle too fast, floods of imagination; leaves only ink blots.
Gather up the leaves, steal the flames from every hearth and burn like Autumn.
University, bags still not packed for Friday and work all Thursday.
(My best friend and I have realised something. My Haikus are starting to represent a form of twitter. Limited syllables and random thoughts".) Around two o’clock we though of the old abbey and dropped everything-
Essay work is done, time for cuddling with a book and lovely boyfriend.
If I could listen to the ghosts within the mist… I might just go mad. My wardrobe divide does not account for seasons. Cold? Just grin and bare.
We thought that maybe… If we tried doing it with… But the joint was stuck.
Not reading enough. I seem to have forgotten why I couldn’t stop.
I knew I had you completely and utterly, nails against your throat.