Writers can only write their hearts and no two hearts are the same.
It doesn’t happen often. Some people will sail all their lives and never have the experience.
Polar breath in eldritch hours,
ribboned cloud striping gibbous moon;
a voice on the wind
ushers frigid dark,
cleaving a heart…
Been slipping on my — ha ha — rec reading schedule. Life is like that sometimes. Here are a few stories to get…