I labored years to weave something of substance but my threads were only blades of dew-coated grass, as breakable as my heart. The wind was …
Wane by Monica Beaujon
The ebbing light in your eyes had prophesied this moment years ago, but I did not listen; like god I refused to listen and within the infinity before …
Dusk by Monica Beaujon
Devilish dreams decide where I will travel, what I will accomplish there. I knew the light was a lie from the day I glimpsed what …