The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle

mine

  • lines of hurt

    We grow up thinking someone will come… someone will fix it… someone will save us… but somewhere along the way… it becomes this:your side… my side… their side… his side… her side… lines appear… not on maps… but in living rooms… across dinner tables… inside conversations that used to feel safe… one person chooses red…… Read more

  • Attending my funeral

    My tears fall like a dropped coin,tinkling, and twirling to rest; a reminder of absence,the sounds of what was, and what will never be I sit with my grief, no longer my parents deaths, but new demons to face wrapped in heavy webbing Outside, friends lives continue, their new family arrivals or other joy and… Read more