The wooden grain groans as the worn floor gives way
to the gentle pressure of my foot.
What is it you’re confessing?
What secrets have these walls seen
brought to life within them?
What truths do they bear?
Polaroids+Poems
Polaroids+Poems
The wooden grain groans as the worn floor gives way
to the gentle pressure of my foot.
What is it you’re confessing?
What secrets have these walls seen
brought to life within them?
What truths do they bear?
ShootYourDarlings 
I’m sooo loving the idea of this!! I have always been a writer at heart….
shape up a story into just a few sentences or a poem… love it!!! Great job on this first one!!!
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Awe thanks April. I’m pretty stoked to get this moving along. I had no idea you were fond of writing, yourself, though. You should absolutely start something up!
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