Suspended in Stone

When I came back, the pictures had slid down the walls.

The sunlight that slipped through the slats in the blinds seemed more thin.

My memories hanging like cobwebs off lampshades were worn.

I felt them surround me and slowly crawl under my skin.

The stories that we all remember suspended in stone,

While the walls and the ceilings and floors come crumbling in.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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