On nights like this when I close my eyes I cannot tell if I see daggers or stars glinting in the only light that’s left.   © Kristiana Reed 2018

Ghost Boy

It has been years since we met, decades since we last touched each other's lives with a smile.   Time has been cruel, convincing me you were never there at all. A figment of a twelve year old imagination; lonely amongst the bookshelves and films, fixated on wheat fields and sunsets.   You were beautiful … Continue reading Ghost Boy

Hanging Moon

Sometimes I wonder which would be better: death or insomnia?   Because I cannot withstand the in-between. Cold nights tumbling in and out of dreams. Dreams of dying, dreams of living, dreams of running toward a hanging moon; taking the rope from around its pale withering neck and binding my wrists to the ground.   … Continue reading Hanging Moon