creative writing – Page 3 – THE LONELY WHITE WOLF

it’ll be fine

July 13, 2025

𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛
𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎
𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎,
𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘
𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚢
𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜
𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎
𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏
𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚏𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚜 – 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎
𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 – 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚔, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚢
𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚒𝚝’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎.

the cage that tells me

July 11, 2025

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚖𝚎
𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜
𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗,
𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚢𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎
𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚝,
𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐,
𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗
𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔,
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛,
𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎,
𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚎.

sparrow

July 9, 2025

𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕
𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝 𝚒
𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝.
𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚎.
𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝,
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎.
𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚋
𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏
𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎.

behold

July 7, 2025

behold the sea of absence,
behold the sea of centuries,
my blood kneeling on a
sunken tree,
and the arm of my anguish
pouring out into the
warm air.

lady of light

July 4, 2025

lady of light,
i command you,
i beg you,
hear me speak with unvoice,
hear what i have unsaid,
with this love i love you,
with this i curse you,
the knife in my back,
broken.

my heart sets out

June 29, 2025

my heart sets out
from my body to your
last journey
sprout of light,
water of the ages that
is born in you.
lost.

come to my thirst.
now after all.
before.
come to my long thirst
entertained in mouths,
scarce springs.

at last

June 27, 2025

he came, at last, to my hope.
around his eyes, brief, infinite,
knowing nothing.
it is agile and clean like the
tender wind of the early morning,
cheerful and soft and deep as
grass under water.
he gets sad sometimes
with that mural sadness
that makes quick idols on his face
and draws worried ghosts.

i think it’s like a little girl
asking an old lady things,
like a giddy donkey
entering a city,
full of straw.
he also has a mature woman
who suddenly frightens his gaze
and moves inside him and
bites his insides with tears.

my sister the moon

June 18, 2025

i want to live
by the moon,
just as ocean
tides do.
permissions to
ebb and flow.
just the gentle
push and pull
of my sister
the moon.

watching the magic

June 16, 2025

we wore feathers
and danced in starlight.
our language was that of
luminosity and crystal castles.
we hung diamonds from tree
branches, like earrings
and watched them swing
like pendulums
in the wind.
the rivers, they knew us
and the moon, she smiled
watching the magic
beneath her.

a glass filled with sand

June 15, 2025

𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍
𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍
𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋
𝚕𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚓𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢
𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖
𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎
𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚠𝚗
𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗
𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢
𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢
𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜
𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚋
𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜
𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝
𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛
𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝
𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜
𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚍

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my secret notebook

Category: creative writing