Impossible, she thought, that decades later the love still held. No one had ever cared for
Her this long and this well. Surprised after the first year when he still woke up beside
Her. Didn’t he know she had so little to give in the way of affection? And yet he mined
Every modicum of goodness, prying tiny pieces and holding them beneath a magnifying
Glass until they caught fire and everyone had to acknowledge their presence. Even her.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Conceptual Photographer and Writer
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Besteesydian
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
The distance between being loved and feeling loved can be incredibly vast.
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So true!
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This is lovely x
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Thank you!
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Breathtaking. You captured this fleeting feeling so wonderfully 🙂
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Thanks! This theme is a recurring one with me. I can’t get it out of my head!
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Profound, Leslie
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Thank you, Derrick.
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This is a beautiful ode to a lasting love. I so enjoy how you make your stanzas – very unique.
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Thank you! I follow Robert Okaji who sometimes uses a similar form. I don’t know if there’s a term for it, and I’m probably not technically doing it right, but it appeals to me!
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It appeals to me, too. I haven’t read Robert Okaji’s blog in a while. Thanks for reminding me about his work.
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