Photo by Zoran Borojevic on Unsplash
A knife traced her throat
Her hands bound tight behind her
She woke in the dark
About the Creator
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More stories from Beth Graham and writers in Poets and other communities.
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound6 days ago in Humans
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