I write because I read. I read because I write.
bed without bodies pillows without tresses, doors only for exit piano void of music, new bulb void of light, lenses with no sight, heart without art, lifetime without life, emp---ty emp---ty emp---ty emp---ty emp---ty the song of me after our we. — 12.12.2019 ©2019 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash — For… Continue reading the echoes you left
in sixteen seconds, bang... bang, bang, bang, bang. two young breaths cold and glass-eyed. behind's a pair of teen-hands. instead of his birthday cake, with a pistol, he blows his own mind last. in sixteen seconds. another school joins an exclusive club no one dreams or wants. in sixteen seconds the sky gulps, to welcome… Continue reading a land i wish is a myth
the gentle whispers of the trees' breeze. the tender murmur of river's flow. the playful tweets of the little birds. these sweet sensual delights are the reasons why we used to visit this river. the river we called ours. today i clutch unto you, unto your vessel. your vessel made of cold porcelain, a stark contrast… Continue reading Our River
I was three when curiosity was born inside me. I remember the first thing I asked my mom was about the grand piano covered and silenced inside her room’s bathroom. I grew old asking why it’s hidden. She has offered me nothing but a teary smile, until today. With the same nostalgic yet melancholic look,… Continue reading The Bathroom Pianist
Dripping red blood from her pale wrist she cut deeply. Dripping red blood screams her pain she kept hidden, locked. She relish the pain silently, her final seconds end slowly--- dripping red blood. — Photo credit: Unsplash In response to OctPoWriMo 2016 by Morgan Dragonwillow‘s Day 25. — The Rondelet is a relatively short poem using the entire opening… Continue reading Red: A Rondelet
I looked at the sky painted in pretty purple and pink. I counted the building’s floors, trying hard not to blink and think. Calm down, jumping is fun and surely death will swiftly come. — ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo credit: Steven Wei In response to Sonya of Only 100 Words‘ Three Line Tales Week Thirty-Two.… Continue reading The Plan
Is there somebody who'll be willing to save my soul, my heart, me. They say I only feel the love I like, they don't know I'm slowly fading dying, drifting away. — Inspired by City Lights by Sara Bareilles. 04.08.2016 ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer Photo credit: Unsplash
My fingers will never be enough to count how many times you whispered you love me most. Love me more than anyone in the world. Love me more than anything on earth. How you want to have a home with white picket fence, where you and me and our four little kids will live with… Continue reading Velleitie
my heart still screams your name, though mind says we'll never be the same. your mind's now filled with fame, true love's now not your heart's game. mind tries hard to keep sane, while my heart still screams your name. — 04.07.2016 ©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer Photo credit: Unsplash
The burning ball seating proudly at the highest height, burns the stoned alley towards a home without a light. There a nameless man lives with no living thing but himself. Surrounded by less non-breathing things, to him was left. Once he was known as a dashing bachelor, until a deceitful woman snatched his valor. Now he lives… Continue reading Nelipot
A Reading Writer 