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Undertone

Rochester Falls

I stood on the edge of the cliff. Under my feet was hundreds of gallons of water, roaring like a monster, crashing against rocks. I don't know what brought me here on the edge. But I didn't remember what it... Continue Reading →

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On one afternoon, the four of us sat in the sprawling meadow, sprawled up against each other in the sun which was an understatement for that time of the year. We faced the trees. I was studying the view around... Continue Reading →

Good Riddance

I am taking to writing as a form of expression after the longest time. What has triggered me after this long hiatus of no writing at all is a cessation of a year long period of misery and exploitation. However,... Continue Reading →

An Ugly Letter of Love

Sometimes when I want to tell people I love them, I take a little too long in picking my words until they mix in my mouth like spoonfuls of bitter syrups; purple and green and brown. It is a turmoil... Continue Reading →

Mother

My fingers tremble as I write this  After what happened today, the things I did, I am beginning to realize the immensity of my wrongdoings, and the audacity of yourself. I cannot begin to put in words my regret. You... Continue Reading →

Cleansing 

Right now, if I could disengage my head off my body and shake it up a little bit, get rid of all these emotions, I would. All these sharp objects that abrade on the insides of my skull, that fracture... Continue Reading →

Slackening

One evening you told me you didn't like to talk about yourself. You didn't want to tell me how you spent your day. You didn't want to tell me how you spent your summer. You said you wrote a diary,... Continue Reading →

Closely Spaced Lines

I cannot decide which leg to cross over the other, I've switched over eight times now. And I can't stop drawing these closely spaced lines all over my little notebook page, whose position on my lap, I cannot decide either. ... Continue Reading →

Dance.

My fingertips tap the table top, Your fingertips match mine. In the veil of making music like that, And in the veil of the red wine, Your fingertips seek the touch of me On my wrist they trace a line.... Continue Reading →

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