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Id love to live in a world....I'd love to live in a world where dreams run rampant and passion runs free.
Where those first kisses feel like the planets have aligned just for you and where love is so beautiful it makes you want to cry.
I'd love to live in a world where chickens can cross roads without their motives being challenged, and where pigs can fly their little hearts out.
Where dogs can not only be mans best friend but a woman's too, and where ants can slack off sometimes.
I'd love to live in a world where flowers can bloom when they want, and where animals can choose their own rights.
Where animals, plants and humans can co-exist and where the dark doesn't scare anyone.
I'd love to live in a world where you can scream your fears into the sky and the sky will listen, and where that single shed tear gets noticed.
Where love and peace are noticed and where you don't have to pretend to get accepted by others.
I'd love to live in a world where you can dance in front of a mirror in your underwear and not get lau
Winter WonderlandA tiny flake falls to the ground and lands on the tip of her tongue. The first flake of winter, the first snow of the year. Other flakes follow it's descent down from the sky onto the earth below. They cling to her black hair, white against black. In a few short minutes her hair is intertwined with the cold winter night.
The street she stands on is part of the old city. The houses all but standing mostly just rubble and bricks. Gas lamps erected in the street at regular intervals, once beautiful and lit, now dusty and broken. She could almost imagine how the street used to be beautiful and elegant in the newly fallen snow.
Children would be walking home from school, laughing about the days' events, gossiping about rumours. Parents would be arriving home from work in their carriages their horses tired from the ride home. Footprints would be engraved in the snow from both the horses and people along with wheel tracks from the carriages.
As the sun start
Invisible Ponderings.They never said they were proud,
although she really tried.
They hardly said they loved her,
and it cut up her soul.
They never had enough,
and she suffered everyday.
They inflicted verbal wounds,
she never let it show.
They thought she was fine,
they never had a clue.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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