Everyone forgets. Even the ones who say they won’t. They never remember, because they can’t. The only tree the ax remembers is the one that breaks it.
By Ian Jones3 years ago in Fiction
I don’t need to see you to know you are close. I know the sound of your steps, the whisper of your breath, the rumble of your laugh.
By Ian Jones3 years ago in Poets
It’s been nearly 15 years. I don’t remember who was doing the talking, or what was said. Honestly, the only reason I remember the place is because I’ve gone back nearly every year since. (Curse you, COVID-19!)
By Ian Jones3 years ago in Humans
Dear Darling, I do not know if you will ever read this. It may well be that the next time we speak, you will tell me you never wish to see me again.
