#writerbrl

[thislovesposts]

The poem of hue

The written essay of yesterday.

The easy youth of love.

I.

The seeing of poem beauty.

In the rush planets of sun.

The hyphen of energy.

I.

The planet of expanding sea, Sun and Seneca

Sunidhi

[toomagazineperfection]

Beautiful finesse of ache, in the beauty fevers.

Love is a start of satire of teeth and war like manner, of not monster man.

The arch of saying Bakth of God, I don't know, owe love swaying say.

I owe, to way.

The nationalist life of said, of the said, in the pehlibar nazari Ghar, angel of said.

I.

The movie of God and eyes of red senses

Sunidhi

[queer-and-nd-coded]

I went through the door and saw Alex there, so I asked him, "What are you doing here, Alex?," and just to make things clear, I meant 'here' as 'outside'. But, like I had meant anything else by it, he said, "You know what? I've been asking myself that same question almost my whole life"

- excerpt from a book I'll never write

[michaelbjorkwrites]

“We read books to find out who we are. What other people, real or imaginary, do and think and feel... is an essential guide to our understanding of what we ourselves are and may become.” - Ursula K. Le Guin

— — —

Your stories are worth telling. For tips on how to craft meaning, build character-driven plots, and grow as a writer, follow my blog.

Photo courtesy Euan Monaghan/Structo

[thislovesposts]

Bubble pop

The cool champagnes of summer dancing.

The first love, Japanese girl.

The light ectopic of literature.

The sea blood of green earth in the tea hue of brown tilling silt of idea nun.

I.

The telling of tale, from the lord of sight, dance and anime.

I.

The memory of life

Sunidhi

[toomagazineperfection]

The life of truth, in a variety of love parachute.

The morning of glorious sea.

In the wake of sea.

In the sea.

I.

The hope of Seth, in a September dream

Sir, from the freedom of mind.

I eat the sinister, slower, sincere gallop of mind stints.

The art of a dream and a artist of sun dreams.

I.

The ache of eyes, Freud mind of God

Sunidhi

[thislovesposts]

The grace of Seth

Love is the suitable suitcase city.

The search of poem in the happiness.

In the deed dense of attention.

The kiss of story sight.

The writer abode.

The spring-summer clothing of his lord.

I.

The ease of Hedgehog painting hedges.

I.

Sea sun of ishq sonnet summer antipodes

Sunidhi

[toomagazineperfection]

The war is everybody's deemed dream, in the diction of good or man. The man. Of the sea, and mind. The mind of sea or tonight. The sea of the making checking roses. The selfish man always finds hips of lies to be bestowed with. In the Montero, in the wings of a literature, love is a stunning man of blaming correspondent, whose eat is work? The time of dean. In the dean of death, in embers embedded of love, glittering terrorist! In the making of soaping child. The gold of walking matters. The run of waters, life of singing diction versus scattering diction. The bloom. Of God and death in sea of all. I.

November touches the blood novelist. In the coldest colour, one is deed. The life of lucrative success from terror, not peace. I.

The life of lunches, life office, of turning presidential of alerts, in the waking Opportunist, she tells one of who.

I.

The tell of take,

I.

The season of sun and emergency loft

Sunidhi