Amidst the undulating wheat fields, the train tracks stretched — steel veins through a golden sea. The train’s whistle was a promise, a binding thread through the heartland. For those seeking solace in familiarities, the train was an old friend’s embrace.
human_esque
The old car ran. Every day. Through the hills, down to the sea. Rusty, but steady. His father gave it to him, as his father gave it to him. It spoke of times gone, of men that lived strong. The car was trust. It was memory.
mellowtonin
A quill is dipped, the ink flows, and words bloom on parchment. Through the muffled cries of a thousand afternoons, her pen knows no retreat. A river of dreams, an incessant current, it carries the wisdom of the ages, unwavering in its whisperings.
Jaz
if there’s one
thing you can
count
on
i’ll play the
victim
over and
over
until
we’re both
unrecognizable
Em
she was so unreliable. she never showed up when she said she would. standing people up was a hobby. she never called, never bothered to make or cancel plans. she was like a ghost in everyone’s life, never really existing in the moment, never really existing at all. maybe she was a ghost, at that.
Amidst the undulating wheat fields, the train tracks stretched — steel veins through a golden sea. The train’s whistle was a promise, a binding thread through the heartland. For those seeking solace in familiarities, the train was an old friend’s embrace.
The old car ran. Every day. Through the hills, down to the sea. Rusty, but steady. His father gave it to him, as his father gave it to him. It spoke of times gone, of men that lived strong. The car was trust. It was memory.
A quill is dipped, the ink flows, and words bloom on parchment. Through the muffled cries of a thousand afternoons, her pen knows no retreat. A river of dreams, an incessant current, it carries the wisdom of the ages, unwavering in its whisperings.
if there’s one
thing you can
count
on
i’ll play the
victim
over and
over
until
we’re both
unrecognizable
she was so unreliable. she never showed up when she said she would. standing people up was a hobby. she never called, never bothered to make or cancel plans. she was like a ghost in everyone’s life, never really existing in the moment, never really existing at all. maybe she was a ghost, at that.