Sabe felt summer’s vehement call for attention in the hot breeze that bruised her cheek. The sky was a bare blue arm stretched wide, offering no reprieve from the suffocating humidity. Each breath she took felt thinned of oxygen, yet heavy with languor. It was only a few days ago that snowfall left a refreshing… Continue reading Summer Air
Wine glasses and vinyl records Displace discordant hollows Down the ruby stream Into a mellow Neverland Of marmalade skies And silken winds Humming groovy jazz Drowning echoes Of vengeful dysfunction Bottled in intoxicated giggles Strained on wistful chords For an elusive romance Ruptured by sobs As the fleeting euphoria Cracks beneath sobriety Splintering into The… Continue reading Broken Marriage
Walls close in With the disembodied tick-tocking Of heavy pendulum swings Grinding silence Between rusted cogs Of a looming clock Mahogany frame Crushing my chest As the seconds spin wildly Out of control Until I can’t breathe Until I can’t see
Her perfect disguise swirled down the drain. She splashed water over her face again then lifted her head, blinking at her unmasked reflection. Her thin fingers pressed to the purpled bruise around her left eye then trailed downward to the corner of her split lip. No one could’ve guessed the secrets beneath her veiled beauty.… Continue reading Impress – Weekend Writing Prompt #102
Cryptic amalgamOf hope and sorrowAmaranth petalsFallIn streams of blood and tearsStaining her opalescent cheeksWithout identityA rose by any other nameShe roams a dying gardenBare feet striped upon thorns
Solitude was often prettily illustrated as a girl amid tranquil woods and drifting blossoms. Where she was seated by a grassy ledge, feet tucked beneath the silken sprawl of a blue dress, as she read her favorite book with the distant song of sparrows and a gurgling stream. But she had no such romanticized ideas.… Continue reading Solitude
I’ve forgotten What it’s like Not to write My feet no longer balk At the brambles and vines Obscuring the cobblestone path To the oak doors of my mind My hand does not curl Into a hesitant fist To knock against the surface Waiting for the chimes To herald my entrance I refuse to loiter… Continue reading Write On…
