i have always been a misfit and a rebel, a dweller on the fringe, a woman who refuses to submit, or fit into a box, and why do i always have to ask so many questions, it makes you uncomfortable, and angry, and, why can’t i just obey? it is a woman’s place, don’t you... Continue Reading →
all the tears of my foremothers, spill hot relief onto the pages that i write. i weep in ink. — on why i write. © Liezel Graham 2018. These last few weeks (on social media) have been really hard. I have wanted to cut myself off. From the anger. From the heartache of women who... Continue Reading →
i walked along the lapping edge of a loch, seeking the mute swan who speaks her peace without a sound, finding solace beneath the tender canopy of ash and sycamore, for the world is bleeding from her bones and every woman that I carry within my dna is afraid, it has always been this way... Continue Reading →
"Right," He said, eyes roving over her with interest, "What can you bring to the marriage?" She looked at him as if he were the only man in the room; to her, he was the very oxygen she needed in order to survive, "I will love you with every fibre of my being. Until I... Continue Reading →
How I wish I could find you; to somehow show you, that I became all the things that you told me, I would never be. —Dreamer.
There is a type of man with a heart as grey, and dreary as a damp winter's day, who will compel you to dim your light; monochrome your kaleidoscope of colours, in order to feel like a real man. This is not Love. No matter how it is dressed up. He is a fatal disease... Continue Reading →
What happens to a woman between being born as perfection, and spending the rest of her life