Those things which break under pressure Bricks. Stone walls crumbling. Wooden beams shattered.

The minutes pass like hours Traces on my shoulder

"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth...." the poet wrote. "and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings"

Silently She wove, guiding the thread through the canvas before her.

by Leila Skidmore There was ice in her veins. That was the story the whispers told. Ice in her veins, and a chill in her gaze.

Writer's block. Been there, done that.

Here is your to-do list for the next little while: Weep.

A twist on toys.

Love lost

How we see life is dependent on our perspective. Two different ways of looking at the same scenario. www.highlysensitiveintrovert.com.

Love is a cycle, and has rhythm like the tides. www.highlysensitiveintrovert.

The product of a difficult week.

Unexplained longing. www.highlysensitiveintrovert.com

Heartbreak, bravery, and bittersweet - in poem form.

Silence. There is something about silence....