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The Courier That morning I opened my door to find a hundred tiny purple flowers peeking out from under the uncut grass, almost as if a hundred little eyes were fixed on mine. Some kind of crocuses, I was pretty sure. I always knew their overnight arrival heralded the imminent coming of spring; this year, I feared it. At least, on some level. I feared the affirmation of time's passage independently of myself. I feared the loneliness. I feared my own darkness. But I was actually very fond of the crocuses. I liked flowers and trees and dirt and those sorts of things – in fact, when I went to Massachusetts in the fall the first thing I noticed was the rThe Courier by =HaikuRequiem
Next Departure 8:00 Your fairisle cap wags up and down, swingsNext Departure 8:00 by =HaikuRequiem
left and right as you dance, leap, and pirouette
around lean maples and willowy oaks.
Roses bloom across your cheeks,
dusted with sugar; honey hair
almost held captive under the cap.
A steam engine jounces the tall,
lonely forest; its high wail pierces
and echoes through the silent woods.
The wintry breeze breathes
glitter onto your cap, and
sadness into your blue eyes.
Love Lost and Heats Broken It's Christmas eve and I am crying. I don't know what else to do. For now, there is nothing. As I struggle to breathe, my notebook is clutched tight to my chest, "I miss you" scribbled in every margin.Love Lost and Heats Broken by =HaikuRequiem
For the first time in my life, the thought crossed my mind: I hate her, I hate her! I hate her for leaving me so alone. I want to believe that I will ever see her again, even though I know I will not. And I don't hate her. I love her, I love her so much, it hurts.
Every sound I hear I think might be my phone ringing, but I know it will never be. Maybe it will never ring again. And if it does, it will never be from her.
I will never, ever get
Sleeping and Dreaming I've wanted to be a writer for a very long time. I remember the day I decided it for sure. June 20th, 2005. It was the day I graduated the fourth grade. It was also that teacher's last year teaching. We had an award ceremony, where every student was given an award praising their talents. Most of them were the same; not unexpectedly, many kids got the same awards. But I got one that was different.Sleeping and Dreaming by =HaikuRequiem
For the student who wrote some very creative stories that were action-packed and full of vivid imagination. A future writer.
It was unique, an award written specifically for me. At first, I was mystified; then, that night, I decided I would do it f
Sta.sh
