She fell at the gate, her name rusted over above
the words ‘angels once stood proud here.’
Somewhere between the farewell handshake,
and the tracks where a bookie accepted her halo
as a down payment, she more than just her grace.
writing as a way of life
My ramblings poems and musings enjoy or not no pressure
The varied thoughts of a millennial modern linguist.
Talking about real things
Poetry and Poems
All that is me!
Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate
I write because I must
I Kill My Own Spiders
character limited descriptions kind of give me anxiety
A few new poems every week. Haikus on Sundays.