heavenlyweather
Kissing clauses with the back of her tongue like some sort of angel. Writing poetry in a hospital bed is far harder than any mere mortal could handle. Cowardice would not suffice. She would be the victor.
The coffee cup was sitting on the counter, undoubtedly forming a ring that would be extremely difficult to get out of the wood. As she reached out with tired and frail hands, she felt the brush of another hand against her own. It caught her off guard. There was no one there and she knew it; she just couldn't stop herself from hoping.
A small orange bottle with tiny white things, makes noise in her pocket as she walks. Her feet are tired and her hands are numb but it's only 5:45 in the morning, it's not time yet.
Plug it in and turn it on. Lights blink at you and your eyes begin to adjust to the brightness the television screen brings you. Countless hours spent, pent up in this position, the plastic between your fingers your only comfort.
writing since 2011 · 4 entries · 4 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Rose showed up.
3longest streak
4days written
5.6entries / week
the words Rose reaches for
tiredhandspluglightsblinkeyesbeginadjustbrightnesstelevisionscreenbringscountlesshoursspentpent