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Writing Letters
Image by Green Chameleon


paws &

a safe 'lil corner for anyone to share their own adventure.

have a story, poem, song, artwork, or any kind of creative piece that

  • you want to put out there but don't have a space to? 

  • would be healing for you to share, but only if done anonymously?

  • means a lot to you and you'd want a 'lil
    to host it?

...well, welcome.

I encourage you to share yourself - put your work out into the world. You never know if it will resonate, connect with or inspire somebody else. Really. :')

you've found the right place :)

and when I say your space, I mean your space.

You decide the font, background, formatting. You decide your level of anonymity, how much or little to say.

This space is here to empower you :)

(and whatever kind of story you share - joyful, heartbreaking, regretful, or anything in between - I am here to paws and listen.)

"Lady Elf"

written by my friend Emile.

An entire ocien exists between us, that cuts me

She is byond my reach,              that stabs me

techtonic plates separts her from my arms, this burns me

The coffee shop proletariat knows her not,

He knows not the lady elf he hands coffee to.

He knows not that she is a Godess amonge termits,

How I envy to be the proletariat, to hear her voice

to gaze as she sips,

to soak in as she breaths

to halt time as she leaves the coffee shop

As she glides away.


june 2, 2019

"There is an empty chair at Thanksgiving"

written by my friend Emile.


October 10, 2020

There is an empty chair at Thanksgiving

Each thanksgiving aroun the table there is a blank space

There is no one siting there.

The consistent chatter and banter of family members

throuhout the night. I sit at the table in

silence, and not feeling hungery. One family member is

missing. Each year I send an inventation, each year. She

refuses to attend. Lady Elf and I used to sing to each other.

Well, she was the one who did most of the singing. A voice

so soothing, it would cure cancer. A presence so scarce,

it's of the secondary world. Each year I picture her there

at Thanksgiving. I keep reminding myself

that, no, she's not coming, yet the sorrow does not


Love letter to St. Blasien

written by my friend Emile.


November 30, 2019


written by my friend Emile.


03 / 12 / 2020


Lady Elf, said she "I love you too."

I believed her to real, to be genuine.

Said I "Don't worry Pia; I'll never let you fall."

Lady Elf, said she "I know you won't."

I felt weightless, celestial in her pure greyish-blue


Lady Elf, said she "You're my best friend."

It felt of this world, felt non-fiction.

Lady Elf, said she "You can always depend on me."

Hope would flow through my arteries, she was the pulse

which became my drive.

Lady Elf, said she "Will you raise a child with me?"

Bliss striked me as a hockey puck, life became more

complet, felt worth living.

Lady Elf, said she "You're just as important to me as him."

Wait...what the fuck? Perplexion drowed me.

Lady Elf, said she "It's family only, No, YOU can't come."

Exclusion, betrayal clawed at my lungs. I believed

that you loved me.

Lady Elf, said she "Well, that's how I felt at the time."

Worthlessness, failure as a husband, as an adult.

Lady Elf, said she "No, I won't help you through your

crisis, because you're a male."

I am a cadaver, decaying. A turkey freezer after

Thanksgiving, void of anything sustaining.

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