Deprived of touch for
so long, you forgot about
the warmth of your hands.
How does it work?
Nice one
More stories from Jada Ferguson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Seals in tenderness, repels outside forces with electricity
By Jada Ferguson2 months ago in Poets
Something sits at the end of my tongue. A memory that is unable to form into words. A distant train bellows with the same frustration that pollutes the whites of my eyes.
By Amanda Abela6 days ago in Poets
a taste of the clouds; soft in the palm of your hand. misty memories.
By Ashley Lima7 days ago in Poets
In the Everyone Is Acting Normally challenge, something is clearly wrong, but no one stops to name it. Across the shortlist, that wrongness appears as resurrections, surveillance, disappearance, and denial, each treated as part of daily life.
By Vocal Curation Teamabout 8 hours ago in Resources
Comments (1)
Nice one