Whispered suicide


My heart continues to beat for every unspoken word and every missed opportunity. That was then. 

Flash forward, her presence is no longer debilitating for the onlookers. They have simply become innocent bystanders. She siphoned the well. Her lover has been missing for days. The dogs set out on the scent.

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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