Nadé Marshall
Articles by
Nadé Marshall
How To Miss Somebody
You are here and they are there, and the space between the two of you fills you with an anguish you didn’t know existed. It is a space devoid of reason.
This Is Not Love, This Is Infatuation
Your hands feel like a touch of heaven, when you caress me, when you hold me, when you stroke my hair and touch my face, I have to remind myself to breathe.
For The Girls Who Cry Themselves To Sleep
These girls are all alone in the world. And they know it.