I am suppressed. Not by some outside force, but by myself. I keep everything under lock and key. Secure.   I know this girl. She… well, she isn’t like that. She’s a free spirit, steps to her own music. Compulsive.   We’re not so different inside though. We laugh, we cry, we hope. And my... Continue Reading →


Patchwork stitches String together these moments Held with the thinnest thread They still keep without snapping -Kel Dayheart

Dusty Days

In dusty old boxes That make me sneeze And my eyes to water I find remembrance In times past In times lost I sit and linger In those memories Before I put them back With care For another dusty afternoon -Kel Dayheart

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