Poem
A visit to beloved
to see the dove.
The corpse lays there,
yet remains here.
To avoid the hate
this is my fate.
Story
I am cold on this summer day but I don't have a fever; the wind does not flow nor does the nature sounds glow as I sit at the open window and lament at the memories that will never exist.
YOU ARE READING
Reality of me that was and is
RandomAnthology of poetry and stories with themes ranging from sorrow to melancholy thoughts.
