Her sigh gave him goosebumps. His touch gave her movement. They loved, giving passionately. Never noticing they were dancing. It didn’t matter the setting. One glance and they were tangled together, forming art.
The morning sun peaks through the shades cutting, molding his face. His chest rises and falls. I'm captivated by what my tired eyes think they see. Mosaic art pieced together by shadows and light. I look for those attributes. They calm a nightmare. They lull me to sleep. They make my heart race. Slowly his... Continue Reading →
Young their pinkies intertwined while sitting atop the monkey-bars. The heartbeat beneath his chest humming underneath a blanket in the back of his pick-up truck One went to college. The other stayed home, comfortable. Other people came and went; they both changed they both learned. A visit back home, a holiday parade, and a simple,... Continue Reading →
Her chest becomes heavy, the breaths are short, and her face is red. The walls inch closer, the voices of others are muffled; the whisper in her head cannot get louder. No matter how hard her voice pushes and scratches through her airway, nothing comes out. Nothing. In the early morning hours she wishes herself... Continue Reading →
Strings attached to my chest, pull much like a puppet, I put on a show. The smile contains flushed red cheeks even when I feel pale. The glimmer in my eyes, were caught like a firefly in the night. I'm so far gone, that I'm lost. I enjoy the adventure of finding this new sense... Continue Reading →
This moment, right now, makes all the difference some how. My eyes open and close at night those moments of darkness, they seem to hold so much more. In my dreams I reach for your voice. Recreating those intonations, those wordless gasps of air. The moments we felt each other’s nonsense. Years have passed. I... Continue Reading →
wash off in the shower at night? Decorate me with words: senseless, immature inexperienced, and ignorant. Color me with stereotypes far older than yourself. Dictate the persona of me created by nothing else; Nothing else but what is scene. If I was a shadow, then would you still "know me?"
Is a woman sad because water drops fall from her eyes? Or is she deemed sad, because the make-up that hides who she is is smearing making the spectators question her truth, fascinated by her façade fading?