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For You, For Keeps

The writer sits in her designated writing spot. Well, her new designated writing spot. She’s had three in the last year, but a change of scenery is supposed to be a good thing for the mind. The backspace key is worn, rickety on its plastic arms, waiting to fall off at just the wrong time. […]

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a dream out at sea

a maple leaf sits in the center of the churning atlantic yellowed aimless not wondering how it got there not caring where it goes how beautiful it must be to be the only autumn leaf but not know you mean the end

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Bereft

I find myself horribly uninspired, wondering if the words that once flowed from my fingers onto paper, like water from a spring into an ocean, have finally deserted me.

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