I was once
a saturated sponge
sitting and souring
in a stagnant pool.
You became
my healing grip
wringing and rinsing
out my rot.
The sun was
my cleansing cure
entreating and igniting
my flame.
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When I was young, late-night adventuresof dancing,of dining, of playing cardswith friendswas my declarationof independenceover sleep. But nowthe most thrilling Friday night means falling asleepin reclinerwhile semi-rivetedin a streaming documentaryabout the history of cheese.
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Honk-honk, clatter-chatter, hiss-hiss,Morning‘s rush ensnares.Sharp glare, piercing, as the bus looms,Mischief in your eyes. Hissing threats through morning‘s gloom,Chattering loud lies.Intent clear, I swerve past you,Safety‘s leap: survive.
Sorry Charlie
You said, “You’re not quite what I had in mind.”A gentle blow, biting like a snake.“You’re very… you,” you added, acting kind,A gentle wink that screamed for heaven’s sake. I’ve crushed my job, my love, my dream, my loans,All returned with a sneer or ghostly shrug.My inbox groans. My phone just echoes tones.My confidence? A listless,…
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