Monday, May 10, 2021

Stefanie Kolodij

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A contributor to The Medium.

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    La Petite Mort

    Sit in the swirling silence; the darkness breathes across my skin. The moonlight paints the world in silver, All the stars you see are dead. The air contains...

    Of Scarves and Snow Days

    I nestled into the depression I made in the snow bank by the side of the road, knees pulled up to my chest as...

    La Petite Mort

    Sit in the swirling silence; the darkness breathes across my skin. The moonlight paints the world in silver, All the stars you see are dead. The air contains...

    Of Scarves and Snow Days

    I nestled into the depression I made in the snow bank by the side of the road, knees pulled up to my chest as...

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