Fisheyfuzzy

Her fingers trapped the warm coffee mug between her hands, the tips just overlapping, her thumbs pressed against one another. A warm embrace. A warm embrace to meet the crisp morning air of the ass crack of dawn. That early morning haze where the sun is just peeking one eye open at the sleepy land. Glimmers of rays begin to arc the sky as the sun’s eyelashes flutter in the glare it produces on the cold roads.   She decided to take a couple more sips in order to combat the cynical romantic thoughts about the dawn's ass crack and sun’s light creating its own misery that its eyelashes battle. It was an early morning, and she had som

All artists stair blank pages blank spaces blank thoughts down. We know not what lies there waiting to be made from nothing. Yet this nothing is the essence of creativity since from it inspiration is brought to life.

The teardrops have already dried on my lashes. I waited, longer than my memory holds but I know I've felt sadness because there are crystals of salt on my lashes.