I sit across from the student therapist. The room is too hot and the chairs too paisley. The old pipes talk their secrets as i talk mine. Theirs are more interesting.
She states revelations I already knew. I say “oh yes, I have never thought about it in that way”. Of course I have. I validate her responses to me. And I wonder who is getting the therapy.
confessions are self-serving
Life somehow is chasing rainbows with a stranger; with that, you'll never be lonely.
With a Challenger-deep Sentiments
Words are beautiful beyond meanings
Novelist, Poet, Wordsmith
weird alien 👽
the literary asylum
Understanding someone’s way with words isn’t as simple as you think.
Talk Books. Drink Coffee.
WITHIN ARE PIECES OF ME
Poetry from an English Hart
.......is writing
Lucidly in shadows. Poetry from a hand that writes misty.
Occasional Musing
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
Because poetry. And petals.
thoughtsgather 