Hi friends! I wanted to share a quick description of the short story I'm working on, Passion’s Curse. Please let me know what you think!
Writing is therapy. Get the words and thoughts out of your head and onto the screen or paper. Breathe.
I'm drawn to sadness and the macabre.Show me your dark and gloomy so I can absorb it and feed you with light and love.
I fall in love with him again and again in small moments that seem not to matter to anyone.
I keep drinking like the answer is etched on the bottom of the empty bottle. Maybe I haven’t found the right bottle?
Anxiety. Feels like I could choke on it. It's playing on my mind, churning in my stomach, and grasping at my throat all at the same time.
On Saturdays, I think about you one hundred and eighty-five times... give or take a hundred. Saturdays are slow days. You should see Mondays! If I go a week without feeling your mouth on mine, then multiply those numbers by ten.
The first time I met him, Love that is, he looked familiar. His eyes held my gaze. His mouth spit words that could nourish flower beds. His face became fam, but his tongue was a curse. Cursed. Curse him! Love that is.
The morning after, her world grew very silent. Words failed to fill the void, almost as if someone opened their mouth to speak their words would violently shatter the silence, so no one dare speak a word.