join us
{it's free}
already a member?
SIGN IN
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
Default
Corinne
SEND NOTE
Popularity
What we want, what we hate. Who
Does it benefit?
Tourists always bring back momentos from their journies for the ones they love. Sometimes, it is the smallest, cheapest trinket that means the most. The one that says ' I thought of you. Only for a moment, but for that moment you consumed my thoughts and I could not(more)
I want one more day here. This place with no boundaries is not my house, is yours, but feels like mine. Mine is too restricting: I much prefer this sense of yours mine ours that creaks up from the floorboards to the tempo of our footfalls as we wander(more)
I was told love
Was easily had
Easily found
Easily held between two matching souls. 

I was told it would be easy to spot: (more)
We're in space, all of us really, clinging to this lump of rock as it hurtles around the sun in a twirling frenzy of motion. We, by extension, are all careening around the giant ball of gas that holds us on a circular path, keeps us from rocketing away(more)
She wore a smear of red lipstick, red like love, and when she kissed him it smudged all over his lips and got on his chin. When he said goodbye, it smudged on the back of his hand, too.

When she wore it with her red dress, they said(more)
It is only through
Cracks
That we may bear witness
To the brilliance of another's soul

Understanding cannot be gleaned without (more)
It hadn't been easy. It had been so hard to get this far, to do so well, and then to fall so spectacularly flat. It had been a rocky road that lead to a steep slope with no flat surface in sight and here she was on her knees(more)
It was hidden in a space of silence, my indecency. In the way I assumed that a twenty three year old college girl was a waitress while her twin brother seemed like a chef.
"I'm in finances," she told me, "he's the bus boy."
I walked away humbled, promisin(more)
The blade of deceit:
Often invisible, soon
Found lodged in their back
I wish I could hate you. 
For what you've done, what you're still doing. 
Oh, I WISH I could hate you. 
Maybe it's your blood, running through your veins, through mine. Though I don't think so. I can hate him and his blood is my blood is your blood.(more)
I can feel it seeping into my clothes, the wet pasting fabric to skin. I owned a raincoat, of course. And an umbrella. Neither of them is too far away for me to justify leaving them at home, but I have anyway. I can hear her words vaguely far(more)