With standards lower
than my necklines,
I scribbled your name,
everywhere I could reach.
My wishes for us,
fell to the floor,
and I joined them,
clutching at your shoes,
the hems of your trousers,
hysterically hoping.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Don’t let this one,
be the one,
who leaves,
like the last.
Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here
Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here
Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here
Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here
RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
RECENT BLOGS
A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review
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