Sunday morning

Silence rings in untouched air whispering through door frames svelte, past magnolia walls.   Silence is golden the border of light below blacked out windows sunshine glittering through cobweb punctures and curtain slits.   Silence humbles my feet, innocently curling into carpet grounding night dreams and shopping lists searching for coffee.   Silence isĀ fragile time … Continue reading Sunday morning

8:40

What do you say when a twelve-year-old asks you if we're dying? Three doors presented themselves. The first stately and indifferent, through which I'd feign disinterest and parade my selective hearing. The second scientific and nonchalant, which promises a cocktail of truth without feeling, shaken not reassured. The final, pulses red and glows pink like … Continue reading 8:40