Words With Motion

past and future lap against

each other, and it is there

where I envision myself

looking on towards forever

The corners of the fitted sheets Stretched across my bed are Always pulled loose when I wake.

Blanket cast to the floor while Pillows are the small spoon I Press in to my vapid body softly.

There are far too many cast in self-consumption, painted into a corner of doubt where fear pushes the content of their character in on themselves. Upon whence they have no choice but to choke on the misery of their former judgments.

Whole heartedly know this is a path not only choice can direct the feeble down, no. Here they can be dragged along, tied for dredge upon those whom they chose not to stand against when vulgar opinions press opposition on the weakened will of the state.

I could press imaginary push pins into the dimples of your cheeks in a frail attempt to pin your smile on the wall of my heart. I could insulate your radiant eyes and hold the heat hostage to warm the cold thoughts that besiege my lonely nights. I could let myself drown in the tears that I've caused you to shed in hopes that the euphoria will wash the guilt from my words. I could ask and beg and plead but I could not admit my wrong.

Homemade wind chimes crafted with best intent ring out in dissonance.

A still wooly worm bug is wrapped in a spider web & half frozen to the porch.

The leaves are dead & gray. Shrunk & twisted from a dull dry autumn.

Expected brilliant hues of fall that bathe these hills in a flash fire of color were stripped of their chance to shine.

This year was hard on the earth, as was the year hard on my heart.

Click

There was a click that night in the air. I’m not quite sure I remember where. Was it here or outside on the stairs? Was it the look across the room; a playful stare? Her words tease and jest, “So debonair.” There was a click that night. Somewhere. Somewhere in the air.

~LDM @wordswithmotion