Poll in the side-bar...

*big scared eyes*

... help me?

love,
Caroline

psstt: workshop emilea's poem below.

There will be more (much more, obviously, obviously) but this sad little paragraph is all I REALLY have (read- like) and

i like it on it's own. tell me what you think of just this and the rest will come... very soon(well, ish. I'm working on it).

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Leila spun until she fell, dancing circles in the hatchback of my father's orange Chevy. It should have hurt, but it didn't. You could tell just to glance at her, even if you weren't me and you didn't know her like the lyrics to your favorite song. Nothing hurt her. She was lying flat on her back, laughing. Her hair had more light in it than the streetlamps on the corner, and she was wearing the torn yellow tank-top she'd snuck out in and the glasses she'd taken from my face.

Leila was untouchable.

&&&