It's real, I tell you!
I’d see them chatting after lunch; They’d pass each other in the hall - He was a handsome sort of guy, And she was very shy - Sometimes I’d catch her watching as He and some other guys played ball; He was a local sort of star That she watched from afar. One summer day, … Continue reading "The New Girl"
For as long as she could, she danced: wherever, whenever. Every day. She didn’t dance because she was the best at it. She didn’t dance for the attention. She danced for love of dancing, for the pure joy of it. Long before I met, and fell in love with, and married her, she had this … Continue reading "For Love of Dancing"
She first escaped at twenty-three. A bicycle, a battered van, A life that she could taste, because She sampled it, at her own pace and where. She felt the wind upon her neck, And her own tongue within her mouth, The ache of stretching, working limbs That carried her the whither she would go. A … Continue reading "“The Thing in Itself”"
This place is home because it’s “us” Now we can be us, because we’re home © Irinamahova | Dreamstime.com – Home Photo
Lucy sat out in the sun In cold and clear September; She modeled for us her new life, I always will remember The pride she wore upon her face As she soaked in the rays; Not knowing pills and Crystal Head Would soon cut short her days. The pride of Lucy, young and full Of … Continue reading "The Pride of Lucy"
i wrestled in my bed with sweat and demons as madness tore into my febrile mind the burning from inside that brooks no pretense the loneliness that’s always there to find across a rope-bridge chasm you were staring amid a blaze of red and wild face but no amount of shouting broke the silence and … Continue reading ""
My attempt at the "My Two Sentences" style.
The barren winter calls across the lake, But what they hear are very diff’rent sounds; Each sees the world on their own chosen grounds: Results of choices that they daily make. For she sees death in winter’s every move: The cold becomes a penetrating freeze That brings her down, somewhere past mere unease To having … Continue reading "Barren Winter"