Comments Posted By Miss Ink Stains

Displaying 1 To 8 Of 8 Comments

nest

I’ve a knack for burrowing deep by him where there is this nook, a perfect dip here and bump for a pillow: I am safe. I am warm. The air is cool on my toes which peak out from the small blanket we’re trying to share.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 06.10.2012 @ 9:58 am

lending

Better a lender than a borrower. My mother always told me when I asked her for another cookie as she was packing my lunch into a brown paper bag. I’d carry a bag she’d packed for me every day from kindergarten until the day I graduated.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 05.13.2012 @ 9:23 am

chapped

It was red and raw. The usual creases are now caverns and ravines jagged and pulsing from the cold outside.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 04.24.2012 @ 5:40 pm

scorn

I could not believe what I’d heard. The words still stung and burned the inside of my fleshy ear, my blood boiled, bubbled spelling, stringing out the sentences.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 04.23.2012 @ 7:09 pm

desk

It was old and had been sanded down more than once by weathered hands, but with patience that could only be found in the waves that rocked against the shore with a consistency that could only envied on ground.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 04.15.2012 @ 11:43 am

charms

They used to twinkle, like stars do if we could hear them. They ring of memories and promises that I might have forgotten had it not been for the reminders that sang to me from my wrist as I moved through my days.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 03.31.2012 @ 7:09 pm

catcher

I wish I had realized I wanted to be a catcher earlier. If I had I would’ve always worn my glove, and I mean always, I would look like I had a club hand. A birth defect, one that would shine on the field, catch the sun light and throw it into my admires eyes who would follow me to every game, from city to city, under the same sky.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 03.27.2012 @ 5:22 pm

temper

I’ve always had a temper. I know it’s not the best thing, but I can’t help it. I’m emotional–but not the kind of emotional where people have to walk on tip toe as to not upset me. I’m emotional about things that I’m passionate about. I’m human and that’s where the beauty of it comes from.

» Posted By Miss Ink Stains On 03.25.2012 @ 11:46 am

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