Slumberous I feel the hairs on my legs rise though the night’s heat has me sweating. My hand on my stomach morphs in to your hand. Turning I see the blood-red hour illuminated beside me, and I remember the wounds you left bleeding with a suitcase and a ticket elsewhere as your weapons.
Places to read other stones and post your own:
- Writing Our Way Home Facebook Page
- Small Stones Group – Facebook [You need to request to join the group to read other stones – you can also add a link to your blog. It is run by the organiser of a River of Stones – Fiona}